A/N – Finals suck.
--.....--
. Last chapter.
--.....—
After what seemed like a 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.
--.....--
.Chapter Six.
--.....—
Vegeta slammed open the door with such force, it was amazing it wasn't completely obliterated. The sound rumbled through the room and out of his peripheral he saw her jump and whip her head around to face him. Vegeta was fully prepared to roar out accusations, demand explanations and just start destroying things. Though he was frozen the minute he laid eyes on the room.
The covers were ruffled about, pillows littered the rug. That gorgeous dress was haphazardly thrown on the floor, ripped on the edges, as if in a frenzy to get it off. That alone made his stomach reel with disgust at the implications. His head snapped over to her form. The Princess stared at him in shock, panic and embarrassment. She stood there, frozen, with nothing on but a red towel.
Before Vegeta could even say a word, even completely digest the evidence, her embarrassment left her and she stared at him with nothing but absolute wrath. Her rage surpassed any of their other encounters. Her hands were clenched, her knuckles white and strained, one hand holding onto the towel. Her breathing was almost erratic, like she was choking on her own fury. Her eyes were narrowed, their normal light cerulean was a stormy navy, intensely focused on him. Her muscles were tense, almost as if she was trying to keep herself from lunging at him.
It was such intense ferocity, that for a second, only a second, Vegeta's anger recoiled at hers. In that second, it was as if she wanted nothing more than to rip his throat out with her teeth.
Then the second was over, and Vegeta's anger came back tenfold. His mind roared over her audacity. How dare she look at him like that? The fucking nerve of this woman. She was the one entertaining that Lizard in their bedroom. She was the one that was naked! His gaze swept over her quickly with scorn. Her hair was raked though, tussled about. Her lips swollen and red. Why wasn't she begging for mercy, rushing to explain herself, anything? Did she not realize that she had been caught? Vegeta's heart pounded. Or did she just not care?
Vegeta's muscles were tight and he could feel ki rushing through his body, begging to be released. His hands twitched at his sides and his tail snapped behind him like an angry cobra. He was breathing heavily, his throat hard and raw. Every rational thought was completely obliterated from his mind. All he could see was their bodies pounding into each other.
With Frieza's words echoing around in his ears, he couldn't contain his ki completely and it radiated of his skin in red waves.
While the woman couldn't sense ki, she could certainly see it and it rightly alarmed her. Her anger dimmed and he saw confusion in her eyes for a small moment. As if disregarding him, she hurriedly turned to the bathroom, her movements stiff and rigid.
Vegeta was stirred to life by her movement; in a single second he was across the room. Like a predator pouncing on his prey, he slammed her against the wall. His fingers dug into the flesh of her arms. She let out a scream and clutched at her towel as if it would protect her from him.
"Get of me!" She screamed, her voice hoarse with anger. She struggled against him, torn between holding onto her towel and scratching at his skin.
Vegeta bared his teeth at her, snarling "What the fuck-" was that smell?
Vegeta paused the instant the scent assaulted his nostrils and his head quickly reeled back away from her (had there been a third party watching, it would have been a tad comical). It retrospect, the smell really shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. And it only drove him further into madness.
The lizard. She reeked of him. Images of them together crashed into his mind. Unconsciously, his grip tightened. However, it only took the sudden look of pain on her face to jolt his mind a bit. It was the first time she had let any intense pain slip through to him.
His grip loosened to the point were he almost let her go. He might of, if she hadn't instantly struggled away from him. On reflex, he tightened his grip and slammed her against the wall again.
"Let go of me!" She cried throaty and strong. Her mouth was fixed into a snarl, her eyes were wide and her brows dipped, torn between rage and fear.
"Why is his scent all over you?!" Vegeta growled, his voice so bestial, she winced and turned her face away; as if the very sound vibrations stung her.
She made it clear she wasn't going to answer him, so swiftly, he dipped his face to her exposed neck, the skin a creamy white. He hovered above her skin, taking in the scent. Her struggles turned to violent trembles in his hands, her bravado gone. He slowly moved his nose up and down her neck.
"Don't." She gasped out desperately, hopelessly, "Don't do it again…"
At her tone Vegeta's stomach dropped suddenly and painfully. Her words sliced through him like a knife. He quickly shoved it away and replaced it with his heated anger. It was no simple task.
"Shut up." He hissed out. Vegeta carried on with his inspection, running his nose down her collar bone, over her shoulders. The moment he was away from her neck, her violent tremors stilled to shaky breathes. She acted as if he was a lion, and any sudden movement would make him devour her.
In the back of his mind, a sense of disturbance pricked at his conscience. Her fear was thick in the air, and it wasn't as satisfying as it should have been. This added more irritation to his wrath.
His nose met the edge of the towel, and he tugged it down. It happened so fast, Vegeta froze for a moment. The very moment his fingertips touched the towel, she switched from cowering and traumatized, to wild and aggressive. She struggled against him so frantically, he thought she was going to hurt herself. Her free arm pounded against his collar bone, her nails digging into his neck. Her torso twisted left and right, her other hand clutched at the towel, her elbow extended to try and push him away.
She was screaming again, those throaty screams of rage and fear. Her eyes were hard on him, her breaths so frantic.
In frustration, and with amazing speed, he grabbed both her hands with one of his, and held them above her. She let out a horrified protest as the towel began to fall, and without thinking Vegeta caught the edge and held it against her.
Neither moved for a long moment, their breathing heavy and deafening in the room. She was trembling again, intensely aware that any struggling would expose her to him. The towel held in such away that it hung loosely against her body, covering up her center and exposing her sides.
It seemed as if the situation finally sunk in and her eyes widened in fear. Vegeta felt a dark shot of satisfaction. Distantly, the darkest part of his psyche wondered why he didn't just rip the towel away and take her. With another thought, he realized he was just too angry to do any such thing.
The very idea of any hand other than his own, touching her skin, his mate—was-was-- it lit a consuming destructive fire that he had never felt before. It was almost overwhelming, uncontrollable. He couldn't even try to reason with it and frankly he didn't want to. While the intensity didn't bother him, that lack of control did, and with all his might he willed it away. The scent of her fear helped level him, bring his mind back to her. He barley noticed that the shot of delight had melted away with the fire of his anger. Now with shaky control, he went on with his inspection.
He ran his nose down the sides of her breast. She was trembling again, he ignored her. That lizard's scent wasn't fused with hers, so much as it was lingering. Which was a relief, and made his shaky control stable.
With his palm holding the towel against her collar bone, and the other holding her hands, his tail was left to pull one of her thighs open. She shrieked and began to struggle again, Vegeta pressed his body against hers, stepping between her legs and giving her a dominant glare. Apparently the women didn't understand when to back down, because her struggles got even more frantic. He ignored them and with his own body holding the towel in place, his freed hand slipped down to her legs.
Vegeta really didn't think it was possible for her to struggle more, what possible energy could she be holding back? Though somehow, she put more speed, more adrenal, more force into her movements. He could hear her heart beat, feel it beating so rapidly against her breast and onto his.
His fingertips grazed her smooth thigh. Despite his anger, a spark of warmth did shoot straight to his stomach, but considering the situation, he found it easy to ignore. He moved his hand to her inner thigh and slowly swept upwards.
"Vegeta! Stop!" It was a horrified plea, but somehow, she managed to make it sound like a command. His dark eyes swept up to her wide blue ones. He didn't say anything.
He retracted his hand, smelling the tips. No trace of that lizard, only her own intoxicating scent. Satisfied, Vegeta released her and stepped back, causing the towel to slide down. Like a spring her hands went down to catch it and hold it against her.
She was fine. Nothing had happened. Nothing of that nature, anyway. That destructive fire in his core was brought under complete control, but didn't leave him. He looked away from her for a moment and took deep breathes. His breathing was still heavy and his skin glowed reddish. He looked back at her, giving her a severely reprimanding glare.
She returned it, her eyes wide and her brows heavily dipped. She let out ragged forceful breaths, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at his intrusion.
Vegeta didn't feel the slightest bit ashamed. She was his mate, there was nothing to be bashful about.
I didn't even see anything, he thought with the annoyance of a little boy, but that thought was gone before it was fully registered. The fact that she had the audacity to look so humiliated was bringing irritation to him all over again. How did she do that? Vegeta tried to shake the irritation off before it sunk its claw into him. He could ponder her latest injustice later. He needed to deal with this whole ordeal now.
"Why was he here?" He snarled out, his first clenching and unclenching at his sides.
She glared back, taking deep breathes, in an effort to calm herself. The hatred in her eyes doubled tenfold and she clutched the towel to her body so tightly, he thought she was going to rip it. She glared at him in silence.
"Answer me!" Vegeta roared, his eyes wide, but his brow set in scorn. "Why was he here?"
"He wanted to ask how I was being treated." She finally spat out, sarcasm thick in her voice.
His brow twitched. She looked at him accusingly, as if he had staved her and thrown her in the dungeons! With a great amount of will (sheer will!), he decided not to point out that she had been given the best of Vegeta-sei, from the luxuries in their room to the bountiful feast earlier that night. Hell, He had personally installed that damn air-conditioning for her comfort!
Vegeta swallowed his pride, and decided to throw all that in her face another time (While a part of him prayed there wouldn't be one, he couldn't help being realistic). With muscles tense, and a hard glare, Vegeta grounded out, "Why here?"
"He wanted to speak privately. I didn't know where else to take him." She said her voice tense with resentment.
"And the smell?" He shot out quickly. A day surrounded by Saiyans and she still smelt more like that lizard.
She raised a brow, then quickly glanced down at her body and then back to him. For a moment he thought she was going to roll her eyes, instead she gave him an artificially-sweetened smile "We hugged."
It was at that comment that Vegeta recoiled with realization. One of the emotions swarming through his body was raging jealousy. His chest constricted, and his eyes twitched. His throat felt thick with a bad flavor and Vegeta suddenly didn't know what to do with himself.
He had never felt this kind of jealousy. Not any real significant kind. He was the Prince! He envied no man! But there it was, that swarming emotion, eating away at his gut like a parasite. He tried to summon back his anger so he wouldn't have to deal with it, but before he could, she shifted her stance and her hair swung away from her neck.
And that bruise stared right back at him.
Guilt shot through him like a bullet, shattering the summoned anger like glass. The shards of anger began to slowly melt into simmering frustration. For once he didn't know what showed on his face, but hers dipped in bewildered confusion for a moment, then shifted to contempt.
With mock-compassion, she spoke up, her chin jutting out arrogantly "What? Are you hurt that I'd rather touch him than you?"
Then, like hitting the rewind button, the shards of anger flew back together and Vegeta was back to the same state he was when he had walked in. With blood pumping through his ears like a powerful river, he glared down at her.
She glared back in defiance. How dare she? His mind screamed over and over. And once again he saw their bodies rolling into each other, and the uncontrollable anger was seeping out of his core and into his blood stream, that destructive fire.
For some reason, before he hadn't really patched her as… well, he sort of assumed she was stupidly seduced. That that lizard had come and made her vain promises, that she was just angry, confused, not thinking clearly, that she was weak and taken advantage of. She was still accountable, it didn't excuse her in the least, and a lot of the anger in him was directed at her, but ultimately, it would be Frieza's head that he wanted not hers-
But now…
Vegeta stepped forward, his anger murderous. His anger completely fueled by that destructive fire. His body was tense and coiled, his muscles strained. A part of him screamed not to get any closer to her, not to lay a finger on her, to get away from her. But the blood was rushing through his ears.
Finally, finally, she was getting the picture. Her brows slowly rose from their crease, and her eyes softened with open fear. Her lips trembled, her head dipped a bit and her shoulders hunched. Instinctively, her body gave him submissive cues.
That voice kept screaming at him not to hurt her. The blood rushing like waterfall in each ear. That destructive anger was so uncontrollable, he thought it would rip him apart from the inside out if he didn't let it out, satisfy its blood lust.
Like a floodgate had snapped, his arm sprang out and he shot ki blast after ki blast. And without looking back left for the door.
--.....—
Bulma sunk to the floor, letting out ragged breaths. Her heart pounded in her throat and she willed herself to breath properly. It was alarmingly difficult. She placed a shaky hand on her brow. Her hand sunk down over her face and she felt tears dripping down her cheeks. She held her hand to her trembling lips and looked over to the sitting area.
The fine imported furniture, the glass table and metal work, the decorative vase and flowers, everything that had been there was now nothing but a scorching crater. All the material there completely obliterated, instantly ceasing to exist.
After her shock wore off, Bulma was left going over the past events in her mind. She had been honestly shocked at his anger when he stormed in, though it quickly shifted as she remembered everything Frieza had spoke to her about- No, she didn't want to think about it right now.
It was too much. Her emotions had been on haywire, jumping between overwhelming rage, fear and sorrow. They fueled her, but like a shot of caffeine, it left her so exhausted. With irritation she wiped her tears away. She had been terrified. Even now she was still rather shaken… Bulma pushed it to the back her mind. She refused to relive it, to wallow in the fear. Her muscles cried as she pushed herself off the floor and headed into the bathroom.
As she let the towel drop, her mind snapped back to his body against hers, his hot breath on her skin. Her body tensed with humiliation and revulsion. She shook her head. She would make herself insane with anger if she thought about it, and she didn't have enough strength to deal with such strong emotions.
Bulma quickly got into the shower. With a turn of the faucet, ice hit her. Bulma relished in the sensation, the numbing of her sore muscles.
She tentatively ran a washcloth over her neck, hissing at the pain. Bulma, without a doubt, had thought he was going to bite her again. She was sure another bite would kill her. And to be honest, he looked ready too when he bursted into the room. Though that was nothing compared to when she taunted him about Frieza.
She didn't understand why that had sent him off though. He was already under the impression that something had gone on between her and Frieza (who she saw as a cousin, by the way, so eww), what was one more little comment? She barley even remembered what she said. Something along the lines of preferring Frieza's company to his. Which Bulma had thought was obvious. So the fact that it offended him so much had honestly caught her by surprise.
His reaction, his terrorizing reaction… Bulma finally understood how entire planets trembled at his name. …She sincerely thought that he would kill her. Bulma's hands stilled as she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. Even after everything, the war, the bite, she had never considered that he would kill her. The thought had never even entered her mind until that very moment.
Bulma wouldn't acknowledge, or even admit it to herself, but there were certain things she felt that he just wouldn't do to her personally. Which was stupid of her, because he had been so close to doing a few of them already. He had almost killed her tonight. Bulma rolled the thought over and over in her mind, trying to make it sink in. But it still didn't make sense to her. And she felt a soft self-loathing for it.
He was the enemy, as it was she was his prisoner. She should be able to comprehend that he would kill her if she stepped out of line. They were nothing more to each other.
Another thought occurred to her, could she kill him? Bulma easily came to the conclusion. No.
Genuinely backing this conclusion with the fact that he didn't deserved death. He deserved something much worse. She would deal him the same humiliation, the same agony, that he had dealt her.
Bulma stepped out of the shower, drying off. Despite the refreshing shower, she felt her eyes drooping. What time was it? She felt so exhausted over the days events.
She left the bathroom, passing the smoking crater the Prince left behind. Bulma let out a sigh of relief for it looked like he wasn't coming back anytime soon. She walked to the closet and pulled on a night gown. Without any hesitation or delay, she collapsed on the bed. She didn't have the strength to be critical over the fact that it was his.
Her mind rolled back to her conversation with Frieza, her mind going over the few things that gave her a sense of peace, a sense of rest. A small smile found its way onto her lips.
Tomorrow, she thought, nestling into a pillow. Tomorrow she would begin.
--.....—
Kakarrot wrapped his arms around her, tugging at her dress. Chichi's hands were in his hair and Kakarrot conclude that it was the perfect end to a wonderful day. His mouth was on her neck and she let out a shaky gasp as his tongue touched his mark. Her knees buckled and his arm was there to pull her close to him, roaming the curves of her body.
A loud knock crashed into the door, making Chichi jump. Kakarrot's eyes swiveled with a glare over to the door. Chichi was already pulling away from him, expecting him to answer.
"I'm sure it's not important." Kakarrot said with a pleading smile as he pulled her back to him.
"It sounded pretty urgent." Chichi said, giving him a knowing grin. Why was it that females could always stop what they're doing at a moments notice? It was ridiculous how fast Saiyan males got wound up compared to their females. It was like a hawk racing a fruit fly.
"It's just Vegeta." Kakarrot murmured, dipping his mouth to her neck again. No one else could put so much unconscious arrogance and out right anger into a single knock.
"It's just the crowned Prince of our planet." Chichi teased, rolling her eyes as she easily pulled out of his arms. "Yeah, go get that. I gotta freshen up anyway." And with that she disappeared into the bathroom.
Well that was a lie, she didn't need to freshen up. She smelled wonderful. With an aggravated sigh, Kakarrot ran a hand through his hair and tried to clear his mind. It better be important. Man, Kakarrot wished that Vegeta would take his problems to someone else for once.
Okay, that was a little harsh, and Kakarrot didn't really mean it. Actually, right now he did. I mean-- come on! No male can be chipper after being sure that he was going to have an awesome night, only to have it pulled away from him. Even Kakarrot. Actually, especially Kakarrot.
Few things put him in a fouler mood than having his time with his mate interrupted.
Geez, Vegeta better have some enormous problem that no one else can fix. Kakarrot already had a wisecrack ready to throw at him. Upon opening the door, the comment melted on his tongue and he stepped out into the hall closing the door behind him.
Vegeta looked furious. Which was not all that amazing, because that's how he looked at least a quarter of the time he was awake. What alarmed Kakarrot was that along with the furry, there was worry and confusion. Two emotions that were rarely ever on the Prince's face, especially at the same time.
"Vegeta…?" Kakarrot asked tentatively. Vegeta's eyes swiveled back to Kakarrot as if just realizing he was there. Kakarrot gulped nervously, something big had happened…
"Training room." Vegeta murmured so low, Kakarrot barley caught it. The Prince stiffly turned and began to walk to the stairs. Kakarrot softly sighed, and followed the Prince.
--.....—
Vegeta threw out his elbow, slamming it into Kakarrot's jaw. He flew back, his body surrounded in blue ki. Vegeta was already above him with another barrage of ki blast. Kakarrot dodged to the left only to run his body into Vegeta's fist.
Vegeta hadn't said another word since they left the hall. He just seemed to be letting out all his anger and frustration on Kakarrot. All he could really do was try to dodge, and every now and then throw in some hits to get Vegeta to back off for a few moments. Finally after what seemed like an eternity and a couple fractured bones later (all Kakarrot's of course). Vegeta finally said something.
"She was alone with Frieza."
Kakarrot dropped his guard for the smallest of moments and Vegeta responded with a quick uppercut. Vegeta powered up again as Kakarrot recovered. Vegeta sent himself into another frenzy of attacks.
Kakarrot tried to wrap his mind around what was said, narrowly avoiding ki blasts. Being a male, and of like mind about such matters, he had instantly understood what Vegeta was insinuating.
However, his brows dipped in thought, that was a serious accusation. Deadly serious. And judging by the fact that he hadn't heard any massive explosions, there was no dead body found and Vegeta wasn't covered in blood, nothing had actually happened between Bulma and Frieza.
And Kakarrot concluded this because, according to Saiyan custom, it was completely valid for Vegeta to kill his mate if she was caught, red handed, with another or the offending Saiyan. There were many other details and scenarios with the customs, but the principle was that if the bond was irrevocably broken (which Kakarrot was sure it always was after such a betrayal) and the Saiyan was shamed and wronged, only blood could pay for it.
So now that Kakarrot confirmed that's not what happened between them, he tried to piece together what else could be riling Vegeta up. Perhaps it was another form of this-
"I was angry when I saw Frieza, angry when I saw the room, angry when I saw her and I already had the idea of them together…" Vegeta said, finally pausing his attacks as he floated in the air. He looked at the wall, his eyes narrowed "It was only when she hinted at being the instigator… that I…"
Kakarrot's eyes widened. That did change things. It made Bulma completely accountable, which meant that she would bear the brunt of his anger. And it's why Vegeta's next comment didn't surprise Kakarrot at all.
"I was ready to kill her."
But it was the fact that Vegeta seemed to be confused by his statement, ashamed of it, that had Kakarrot's mind reeling. For a moment Kakarrot couldn't even respond. Seeing open shame on Vegeta's face was like seeing a butterfly spinning a web. A contradiction. However, Vegeta was clearly very disturbed by his revelation.
Kakarrot had said it a million times, but Vegeta really never ceased to amaze him. As soon as Kakarrot thought he had the man all figured out, Vegeta would do something, say something that contradicted the conclusion.
Normally if Vegeta felt he was wronged, he would correct the manner in whatever form he deemed necessary. And as a Saiyan, his instincts had a great deal in deciding what needed to be done. However, Vegeta was questioning his instinct, something Kakarrot was sure the man had never done before. Something that completely redefined Vegeta in Kakarrot's mind.
Kakarrot focused back on Vegeta. Reciting his words in his mind. Vegeta never just stated what he was asking of Kakarrot, so the Saiyan was often left shooting in the dark. Now it seemed as if Vegeta was questioning why it set him off so much, that Bulma had been the instigator instead of Frieza.
"It sounds like the idea of her betraying you is what did it." Kakarrot said simply, not bothering with any eloquence.
Vegeta's brows knitted, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. And Kakarrot could see why. Vegeta lost control over something that she had done, and in a way, that gave her a sort of power over him. Kakarrot expected Vegeta to shoot this conclusion down and was already tying to gather another plausible one.
However, Vegeta murmured softly, "…Maybe…"
--.....—
There was a knock at the door, disturbing Bulma's sleep. She let out an annoyed groan. Her entire body ached all over again. She was growing so sick of the constant pain. Both mental and physical. Sleeping was the only time it diminished. Bulma shifted her body into a more comfortable position and as she began to drift into another dream, there was another knock.
Bulma opened one eye, nothing but irritation entering her. "Go away." Bulma called out tiredly into her pillow.
The door opened. Bulma scoffed, rolling her eyes under her closed eyelids. Saiyans suck. Her thoughts were never quite elegant or witty in the morning.
Bulma rolled over to see several female attendants coming in with what looked like breakfast, another opening the heavy curtains and letting in the hot sunlight. The ones caring the trays suddenly paused at the obliterated sitting area.
They all exchanged awkward glances, having no idea what to make of it. Had Bulma been more awake, she would have laughed out loud. They ended up just setting up breakfast on the large trunk at the foot of the bed.
Bulma slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom.
"Is this alright, Princess?" One asked as she walked by.
"Get the hell out." Bulma said instantly and casually, not even bothering to look at them. Neither was Bulma the most well-mannered person in the morning. Always saying exactly what she was thinking, without any shame or remorse. If Bulma hadn't been born a princess, she would probably be like that all the time (the last few days didn't count).
The attendants left without another word.
Bulma washed her face and looked up into the mirror. There were very fine bags under her eyes, her body still lacking energy, but the long sleep certainly helped. She was actually able to get through a REM cycle. It was quite the accomplishment.
She brushed her teeth and went on getting dressed. On the way to the closet she glanced at the breakfast they left and then disregarded it. Bulma slipped on a black tank top and then a thin white zip-up-hoodie. After stepping into a pair of dark grey pants, Bulma walked passed the cooling breakfast again. She grabbed the pitcher of ice water and poured herself some.
Bulma made her way over to the massive bay window, the shadows of the frame work falling on her in thin squares. She looked out to see the city.
At the sight of the sandstone buildings and red tiled roofs her mind jumped back to a memory so long ago. Her eyes grazed over the newer, metal buildings, painted a cool white. Along the main streets were planted palm trees, and people walked though going along their day. It was a lot like she had imagined it…
Then there were blurs of blue, red, yellow, and green streaking causally across the city skyline. It was really odd to see people simply flying to their destinations, rather than cars or other forms of transportation. A gargantuan coliseum close to the base of the palace caught Bulma's eye, but she dismissed it quickly. She moved her eyes back on the Saiyans going about their day.
She narrowed her eyes, but before she could began to berate them on the injustice of it all, she let out a calming breath and then took a sip of her water. It would begin.
No more aimlessly going along with the Saiyans demands, no more simmering helplessly in anger. Now she could do something.
Everything had changed last night.
--.....—
Frieza 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 it 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.
Frieza's demeanor suddenly sobered. Bulma stilled and her mind froze. "The planet has been ravished. All major cities have been decimated. All colonies have been destroyed. While a few hundred civilian ships managed to escape, most were either shot down or taken captive as they left Tokoshimo's atmosphere. The technology from the ships was harvested and the Saiyans currently have various computers and data bases in their labs."
"The civilians that stayed on the planet have been killed or enslaved. Those that were captured were organized according to their status. They were divided among the Strategos of Vegeta-sei and are being forced to help update Saiyan technology and implement it on various ships and labs. Many have refused to help and were either murdered or committed suicide. Those civilians who were not familiar with technology were either killed or sent to Samos. That includes men, women, and children. Many women were taken to the harems and local brothels."
Frieza didn't mince his words, but he looked at her with pained eyes. Bulma stared at him wide-eyed, but saw nothing. She felt numb. How did such a horrible fate happen to her people? Her mind couldn't comprehend it. Three days ago her planet, her people had been the most prosperous in the entire universe. Now they were reduced to nothing.
Three days.
Bulma couldn't breath, and it didn't even alarm her. Distantly, in the back of her mind, she wondered where her tears were, where the sorrow was, but Bulma felt absolutely nothing. The ice seeping into her body, freezing her blood was slowly killing her. She couldn't even feel her own heart beat, as it was frozen over. Her hands clenched at her dress, ripping the red fabric, her knuckles bone white.
Frieza spoke again, "The palace has been completely demolish."
Instead of an explosion of pain, Bulma could only draw her brows in confusion. The place she had grown up, the place that held so many memories, a place that was as familiar to her as her own skin… How could it be gone?
"My Father?" She heard a gasping hollow voice ask, it took her a moment to realize that it was her own.
"I've heard nothing of him." He said regrettably.
Bulma's heart jumped up into her throat, painfully shattering the ice that had spread over it. With a jolt her eyes focused on Frieza. "Nothing?" She breathed out.
"Only that no body was found." His tone had a lift of hopefulness. She let out a shaky breath and the ice thawed, cracking painfully with sweetly bitter relief. Her eyes slid close and she concentrated on her breaths. There was hope. Her Father had to be alive. He was too smart, too strong to succumb to the Saiyans, he would have figured something out…
"Marron? Sixteen?" Bulma asked, they were strong. "Eighteen? Yamcha?" They couldn't-
"It's possible the androids could have been destroyed and their bodies recovered for research…" Frieza murmured, his own brows dipped in thought.
Bulma's breath caught in her throat. She saw them ambushed, overwhelmed by the sheer number of the Saiyans. She saw Sixteen torn limb from limb. The few organs that were still human flesh violently ripped from the metal shell. Eighteen was on a metal table, her eyes blank with the side of her head bashed in her gory brain matter exposed, her lower torso completely obliterated, circuits and wires hung loose, blood mixing with oil.
Silent tears began to stream down her face, her chest tightly constricting, making it difficult to breath. Her mind was thrown into shock at her own horrific imagination. They couldn't be- No, they were too strong…
"I have no news about Marron. There were no reports of another blue haired women being found…" They way his eyes bore into hers, Bulma understood why he trailed off.
It was then that a flood gate of grief slammed into her heart, making it burst into sharp glass, slicing and carving her out from the inside. "Marron…!" Bulma gasped out, hot tears spilling down her face. She never even had a chance! Bulma was met with images of Marron being dragged away by massive Saiyans, screaming and desperately trying to get away. She saw their hands tearing at her clothes, Marron's blue eyes wide in terror. Bulma felt herself falling, her body shaking with horror, as if she was the one about to be viciously assaulted.
She felt hands grip her shoulders as she began to fall down to her knees. She wildly pulled away from them, her minds eye seeing nothing but Marron fighting a hopeless battle.
"Bulma." Came a firm voice, Bulma looked up to see red eyes, "You don't know that that's happened to her."
"I should of-"
"Nothing could have been done. You can't fall apart Bulma." Frieza reminded, holding her to him, one hand reaching up to wipe the tears away. "Nothing was reported, she could have been on one of the civilian ships that escaped." All Bulma could do was cling to that hope, to keep herself from falling. If she fell… Frieza was right, she would never get back up.
"Yamcha's alive." Bulma's head snapped up to him, barley registering his close proximity. Her eyes fell close and she dipped her head. The tears were a waterfall now. The joy was bittersweet in light of all the other news, but it was still more joy than she had felt since the whole ordeal began. All the anger seemed to wash away from her body in light of the revelation.
He was alive! Some burden she hadn't realized she carried was lifted from her, and Bulma could breathe.
"What's your next move, Bulma?" Frieza asked, leveling her with a hard gaze. She looked back up at him, now mildly aware that she was completely in his arms. She took a step back, and he easily released her as if they did that sort of thing all the time.
She didn't really register the odd occurrence, her mind completely wrapped up in his question.
She had nothing, no resources, no subjects, no soldiers, absolutely nothing. What could she possibly do? The more she thought about it, the more here heart fell into despair. Her Ningens had fallen…
Frieza saw the desperation in her eyes, the sudden hopelessness. "The war isn't over." He said firmly, then lift a brow at her "Unless you've given up?"
The way he said it, as a challenge, awakened Bulma's pride. He saw the change in her demeanor and went on. "Have they broken you, Bulma? Made you accept what they've done to you, to your people. To abandon who you were, and become what they expect you to be?"
She glared at him, anger fuelling her. Anger for her life, her marriage, her family, her planet, her people. She would not let them down. "No." She wasn't done with the Saiyans, no. She would never give up.
Her mind began to calculate, formulate a plan. That's all she needed. She would find a way to execute it. She was Bulma of the Royal Briefs family. A righteous vindictive furry swam in her veins.
She would bring justice to her people. She would make the mighty Saiyans fall, dwindle to nothing. She would make his Royal Highness feel exactly like she had, she would tear everything away from him.
Her eyes suddenly swiveled back to Frieza. He had always been neutral during this war, needing the services of both plants…
"Who's side are you on now?" Bulma asked him, almost defensively. There was no more neutrality. He was either with her or against her.
"The Saiyans have wronged you. They have deprived me of a very important alley, and disregarded all of my counsel. While I cannot openly engage them in war, I will aide you when I can. I want you to understand the position you are now in."
Bulma raised a brow caught off guard. She knew he could not engage in open warfare, there were too many resources to be lost and nothing to gain but salvaging the honor of a people that weren't his own. However—position--did he mean--
"Marriage?" Bulma said the word with so much disgust. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief when Frieza actually smiled.
"Yes. Don't let your anger cloud your judgment. Don't you see that you will be their Queen? And you are now in a position of great influence and access."
Bulma instantly thought of seduction, of using her body instead of her mind, to get to where she wanted. Her stomach rolled uncomfortably. Her face scrunched up as if she caught a whiff of something offensive. It repulsed her.
Frieza had the nerve to laugh, then caught himself. "Not like that Bulma, though I'm sure that would make things go allot faster."
He went on, his tone shifting, "As a woman, they will underestimate you. Despite their knowledge of Ningen intelligence, they will disregard you. They think you're weak, that you will bend to their will. They assume you will submit to them and spend the rest of your life siring their heirs in silence."
Bulma crossed her arms angrily. Her jaw clenched as she looked away. Wrath bubbled up in her. There was nothing that bothered her more than being underestimated.
"Use it." Frieza stressed. "You will be on the inside, have the opportunity to destroy the Saiyans like they did your people, worse then your people-" He suddenly turned to the door, as if hearing something. "I don't have much time left."
"Listen to me, Bulma, I believe that the Saiyans wish to turn against me as they did your people all those years ago. You know first hand of their lust for power. I want you to have your eyes and ears open. Learn their weaknesses, learn to exploit them. Listen to their plans, find their flaws. Observe their technology, sabotage it."
Bulma's mind reeled over the damage she could do. Dark sadistic delight flooded her being, the taste of revenge tantalizing her. She remembered how she had stabbed that Saiyan, the joy. How she yearned for something more lethal. This was her chance…
"Now Bulma, here comes the hard part." He gave her a little smirk "Play nice. Do all this and still keep appearances, don't let them figure out your talent. Make them forget that you were ever their enemy. Gain their trust, and betray them like they did you."
He looked over his shoulder again. "I will stay in contact with you, Bulma. For now just gather information, don't make any moves yet. Gain their trust." He stressed one last time.
Bulma nodded, her constant anger lifting at the thought of retribution, her heart beating hotly. Frieza turned to the door. "Thank you." Bulma whispered and his hand paused on the door knob. He looked over his shoulder, giving her an expression she couldn't quite place. Finally, he smiled softly at her and nodded. Without more delay, he was gone.
Bulma let out a deep breath. She felt so suddenly drain with all the news and finally, plans. She smiled slightly. She was done waiting, now she had something to do, a purpose.
She looked down at herself, seeing that red dress. It seemed like a sudden symbol of everything she hated. They were dressing her up to be what they wanted her to be.
A silent Queen to sire their fucking heirs. That endless anger built up in her, laced with overwhelming disgust. She needed to get out of that dress. With sudden energy she tore it off like a mad woman. She didn't even bother with the zipper, instead ripping at the seams and throwing it on the floor.
In nothing but her undergarments, Bulma felt much more uncomfortable and vulnerable than she expected. She quickly went into the huge walk-in-closet and pulled out some pajamas. Then decided that she'd like a shower first. She stripped her undergarments and grabbed a towel, heading for the bathroom.
She was halfway there when the door suddenly slammed open.
--.....—
Bulma leaned against the window sill, her gaze drifting off the city and into the horizon. The scenery waved in the heat, the sun already high above the clouds. Her mind rolled over the plan, well the gist of it. There were no concrete details yet, or an outlined plan, but she supposed she could start with gaining the Saiyans trust.
She rolled her eyes. It would be difficult. She had an excessive amount of hatred stored up in her core, it threatened to scorch her from the inside. Just seeing their tails set up tension in her brow. Bulma would have to work her way down to indifference, bite her tongue. Which is something she had always had trouble with.
Bulma's eyed went back to the city, watching the figures go along with their lives without a care in the world…
In the end, she thought darkly, she supposed she could hold her tongue if she got to cut out theirs.
--.....—
Vegeta closed the door behind him, sweat dripping off his temples. It was a good thing Kakarrot was so strong or he might have killed him in that sparring session. There was just so much pent up frustration. He made his way to the bathroom, in need of a shower. He was in and out of the shower quickly and went and grabbed a pair of pants out of the closet.
He opted to sleep in one of the Royal Guest rooms tonight. A part of him was annoyed that he didn't want to go into his own room, but he was still angry. He didn't want to face her right now. He didn't know what he'd do. What if he lost control again? Vegeta sunk into the bed, letting out a deep breath.
How did it get like this?
His mind went back to the last time he saw her, before she had hated him, before he had ever hurt her, before the war. It seemed like an eternity ago. Back then whenever they got in a spat, she would just start hurling snow at him, or he would pick her up and toss her into a huge pile of the frosty stuff. It was how they solved everything.
Now she was throwing vases at him and he was throwing her against walls. His heart sunk. It shouldn't have been like that. Like this.
A part of him, a small part of him was trying to understand the intensity of her anger (unfortunately Vegeta wasn't naturally an empathetic person, so this took a lot of effort). Yes, her planet was conquered. Yes, the Saiyans would be using the technology they salvaged. Her pride was wounded. He understood that. But she had to move on. She had to yield to him.
But oddly enough, she seemed to be taking all her anger out on him. Which in Vegeta's mind, was completely uncalled for. The Ningens had asked for the war. The Saiyans responded. While his Father and the other Strategos had been overseeing the battle plans from day one, Vegeta had only personally participated in the final invasion. And only so he could obtain her himself.
Because during the war, he hadn't felt as if anything personal had changed between them. Ultimately, the war was between their Fathers, their people, but not between them.
Through out those five years, he still wanted her. That never changed, his determination never wavered. Actually the longer she was kept from him, the more he craved her. What had once been honest affection melted into a sort of obsession. At one point during the war, Kakarrot had loosely asked Vegeta if perhaps the Princess wouldn't want to marry him. It was then that Vegeta realized that he didn't care if she wanted him or not, he wanted her, and that was what mattered.
In fact, he had always felt that way. Even as a child. He supposed the only difference between now and then was that she hadn't minded the idea of being with him so much. Well, perhaps Vegeta also grew more calloused during the last five years. More explosive, but only when she provoked him. She certainly hadn't pulled crap like that when they were little. Then again, she didn't hate him then either.
Vegeta rubbed his brow to get the tension out. He didn't care if she hated him. He didn't care if she was angry about being married to him. He didn't care. She was his mate, and there was nothing neither of them could do about it.
His mind went back to the night's events. He stared up at the dark ceiling, rolling his eyes in agitation. Just thinking about it made him angry, but before he could get too riled up, he also remembered his murderous rage.
Never in his entire life had he wanted to hurt her like that, the thought of killing her made him sick. The Saiyan instinct in his core told him that was weak, that if she wronged him in such a way, it was the only way to serve justice. Normally, Vegeta never hesitated to kill. But this was different.
It was Bulma.
He let out a sigh. On one hand, he was bothered, almost to the point of being distraught, over the fact that he had wanted to kill her. On the other hand, he was torn over feeling so strongly about it. He was a Saiyan. The Prince of Saiyans. He shouldn't have had such conflicting emotions. Especially about such a petty thing as a killing. If she wronged him in such a manner he was in full right of taking her life. He would have been utterly justified.
Then how come he felt so wrong about the very idea of it?
Vegeta tried to think about other examples of such infidelity in Saiyan custom. But the fact was that not many Saiyans took mates in the first place. Infidelity brought on such an intense form of ignominy, it was almost unheard of.
But it happened. For a number of reasons, none of them being acceptable. Often in political marriages between Saiyan families. The bond between two mates was more binding and powerful then any other legal contract. Those marriages always had a higher rate of breaking down, for obvious reasons.
There were ways to salvage them… Vegeta narrowed his eyes in the darkness… Wasn't there? The only one he could think of were both mates lived, was if he killed the one that got between them. In this case it was Frieza.
That very thought lit him on fire all over again. He took some calming breaths, and after a few moments went on. Unfortunately, Vegeta couldn't deal that blow yet. He would kill that lizard. Vegeta swore it. However, what made that death less satisfy was that the Princess had stated that it was she that brought the lizard to their room…
Vegeta's mind ran over her words. He let out a calming breath. Never before tonight did it ever cross Vegeta's mind that the Princess would go to another. Betray him in such a manner. His mind flew back to Kakarrot's deduction.
The very idea of her betraying him, stung him in a way he never experienced before. In a way, he guessed that that instinct to kill her was really just a means of preventing her from betraying him. The fact that he would go to such a drastic measure to prevent it bothered him, almost as much as the fact that he almost did it.
Vegeta let out an annoyed exhale. She made him lose control. It was ridiculous, she did it practically every time they interacted. Even Frieza didn't make him lose control like she did. She shouldn't have had this power over him. She made him show more emotion, she made his body respond in ways no one else did. The fact that he felt like he had little say in the matter, was maddening.
He supposed that was another thing that made him so volatile towards her. It was downright unheard of in Saiyan culture for two people to be bonded, without ever consummating the relationship. Vegeta wasn't goanna lie, a lot of his pent up energy had to do with that. As it was, he was pretty sure that problem wouldn't be remedied for awhile.
Vegeta sighed in unbelievable frustration. Tonight he had intended to alleviate all their problems. Make things right. Put up with her nonsense, not lose his temper, attempt to reason with her.
That had been his plan anyway. It had spectacularly gone down in flames. Vegeta shook his head in frustration as his mind kept replaying the memory over it over and over. Never did he envision her as being even remotely involved with any man. Now that he thought about it, it was a rather asinine view.
She was beautiful beyond belief, had elegance and poise befitting a Princess, knew how to maneuver the political landscape, was heiress to the most advance planet in Tokoshimo-- she must have had hundreds of suitors after her from all over the universe!
Vegeta almost sat up in alarm. How come this never occurred to him earlier?!
Well, she had always been owed to him. He would have her. No one else ever even entered the equation, there was no other outcome. Only that the Princess would be in his possession.
And that's what happened. Vegeta relaxed him muscle, tugging at the blanket to get comfortable. The war was just a delay in the inevitable.
He supposed there was some chance that suitors pursued her in those five years, but he couldn't see her accepting any. In fact the idea was already making red ki dance on his flesh. He calmed himself down again with the shake of his head. No, Tokoshimo wouldn't promise her to another anyway, not after they had previously promised her to Vegeta.
No, they wouldn't have the nerve.
--.....--
.To Be Continued.
--.....—
You know what, guys? I think I might have to move this up to mature, mostly because Vegeta keeps manhandling Bulma. I feel really bad for the massive delay. This chapter gave me a ridiculous amount of trouble. The good news is that chapter seven will come out allot sooner.
Also have I properly thanked you people? Let me just say that I immensely grateful for your feedback, and am especially happy that you guys leave nice paragraphs instead of one word reviews. Thanks for all the grammar help too, I feel silly for making all those mistakes, but I'm glad you guys point them out. So thank you so much.
- Mellow Penelo