Disclaimers: Don't own DBZ/GT, never will, but would be cool right? Reminder, I have Bulla born before Pan in this in accordance with the guidebooks.

Author's Note: WOWZA! Thank you all for the continued love and support. Means more than I can say! After a busy couple of months, I'm getting back into the groove! I know things got a bit spicy last chapter with our little TruMar side plot and we were almost there with the Broten/Braten side of things too. I've hinted about it in the tags for months, but there will be a big romance component to this story. Smut seems disingenuous to call it, but just know that's where we are headed. I've done my best to build a slow burn, as fun as PWP can be, because I've always wanted the foundation to be strong.

While I write Bulla a little younger than I usually do for the world of this story to make more sense, I hope it's clear that I give her complete agency as an adult, albeit a fresh one, and with maturity that befits her character, given her intelligence and who she has been surrounded by. This includes curiosities and desires, a lot of which are formed in our teenage years, but please know I'm very firm with appropriate power dynamics. I figure if you have made it this far by now you are a fan of the pair or are tolerating them for my sake (to which I say, thank you!) but the princess is in full control here.

Playlist Recommendations: Blue, I'm Blue, Love is Pain, You'll Run, I'll Burn

Chapter 12: For You, For Always

18 years earlier…

"She just…lays there."

Goten gazed at his 12-year-old friend while they stood next to the newborn Bulla's baby crib. With Bulma down for a much needed nap and Vegeta training, the task to watch the young half-Saiyan fell to her fellow hybrids. "She's a baby, Trunks," he responded reasonably.

"Yeah, well," Trunks resumed, "you'd think she'd be a little more exciting than this."

"Well, she's had a long day…you know, being born and all…"

"So what? She's half-Saiyan like us! I'm surprised she's not ripping her blanket in half."

"Bulla's not Godzilla!"

"No," Trunks conceded. His face lit up at the thought. "But how cool would it be if she was?!"

Goten chuckled. "I think your sister's pretty adorable," he said. His words, though likely not understood by the newborn, still seemed to coax a joyful squeak out of her. Hearing her happiness made Goten grin. Trunks raised his eyebrow.

"Huh, she must like you," the older halfling remarked.

"Oh," Goten said, diverting his attention back to his friend. "Maybe," he surmised. "Probably just likes sound," the Son boy reasoned.

Trunks considered his words for a second. He then peered over the crib, inching close to her face. Both siblings remained silent until Trunks contorted his nose and lips. After making what Goten thought was the ugliest looking expression he could muster, Trunks squawked a goofy noise. Goten didn't know whether to feel concern or pity at the effort.

Neither did baby Bulla, apparently, whose blank stare yielded no noise or action.

After some more gibberish was spewed, Trunks grew bored when he realized she wasn't reacting to the gesture. "No fair," he frowned. "How come it worked for you?"

"I don't know," Goten responded honestly. Just hearing his voice prompted Bulla to babble again. Trunks continued to pout until an idea crossed his mind.

"Hang on, I'll go see if I can grab some of my toys! She should like that," the young prince deduced. "Watch her, 'kay?" Trunks exclaimed as he dashed out of the room before Goten could respond.

"Trunks wait!" he called after him. Goten gulped as his attention turned to the little girl. He'd never been alone around a baby this young before. The elder demi-Saiyan marveled at the new female counterpart. He was so used to boy Saiyans and halflings, the thought of a girl being one would take some getting used to.

An innocuous trill of Bulla's lips brought Goten out of his thoughts. Left on his own with the baby, Goten felt a bit nervous, but the playful smile on Bulla's face only prompted one to form on his. She really was a cutie. Seeing her in all her innocence made him instantly protective towards her.

"I don't have a sister," Goten said to the day-old babe in the crib. "I guess Videl is sort of one now but," he lowered his voice, "I've always wanted an actual one myself, though."

Baby Bulla stretched, her big blue eyes staring up in curiosity.

Goten continued to look down sweetly at the newborn. "Trunks is like my brother though, so I s'pose that makes you like my sister too!" he said excitedly.

He took the cooing noise she made as a positive response. Right away, Goten's focus went to her cherubic face. Aqua eyes that were just like Bulma's under the teensiest peak of blue atop her head. Her full cheeks were cute and squishy…how could he not press a finger there to see for himself? Bulla continued to giggle as Goten gently touched the soft skin. He was more than surprised when the newborn reached for the finger on her cheek and squeezed with her little hand. Goten took a breath.

Being half-Saiyan, Bulla was already abnormally strong for an infant. That wasn't what surprised him most, though. As Bulla gripped his finger, her giggling turned into uproarious laughter and babbling. She looked directly up at him, happy as a clam. It was the most expressive he had seen her all day.

"Whoa…" Goten breathed quietly. Bulla seemed to like him! He beamed with pride. For her to trust him so much already was humbling. "Don't worry, Bulla," the young demi-Saiyan began, "I promise I'm gonna always keep you safe. Like another big brother!"

"Tch."

Goten's ears perked up as the familiar sneer of Vegeta echoed through the room. He turned to face the older man, his finger still encased in the young Bulla's grip. Vegeta was in the doorway, arms crossed per usual, glaring at the Son boy. Goten immediately withdrew hand to put it behind his back. "Hi Vegeta," he said nervously.

"Where's Trunks?" Vegeta asked curtly.

"Oh! He went to grab a toy for Bulla."

"A toy?"

"Yeah! For her crib. I was just watching her while he—"

"You shouldn't be alone with a newborn," Vegeta chided, approaching the crib to gaze down at his daughter babbling excitedly upon her arrival. Though she had barely been Earthside for forty-eight hours, Bulla seemed to know who her father was already. Her tiny palms stretched out for him and Vegeta let her grab his hand. The slightest uptick in the corner of his mouth suggested he was pleased with the action. Just as soon, however, the normal scowl he sported graced his face once more.

"Toys can't be in the crib, by the way," Vegeta added. He lifted the little girl up into his arms while she cooed affectionately. He situated the babe more comfortably before turning towards the young hybrid. "It could be dangerous for her," he explained.

"Oh," Goten lowered his head, ashamed he didn't know that.

"Remember, Goten," Vegeta continued, "this is your princess."

Goten's eyes widened. "Right! I forget you guys are royalty sometimes!"

The comment wasn't an insult, but Vegeta glowered as if it was. Goten sheepishly put his hands up. "I-I mean, yes," Goten bowed politely.

"She's the first princess born in the royal family for over five generations," the proud Saiyan Prince added, little Bulla chattering in agreement. After giving her the smallest of amused smirks, Vegeta returned his attention to Goten. "Were we still on Planet Vegeta, you'd answer not only to me, but her," Vegeta continued. Goten's expression brightened; he loved whenever Vegeta would talk about Saiyan culture and Planet Vegeta.

"Wow! Like a bodyguard or something?"

"Huh? No, you clown," Vegeta scolded, "low-class warriors were always sent to other planets. I meant you'd answer as a subject."

"Ah," his face fell, the inadequacy of a long lost rank hitting him where it hurt.

When Goten was silent for a few moments, Vegeta rolled his eyes. He hated when Kakarot's youngest made that mopey face. "I suppose," he began again, "since this isn't Planet Vegeta, an extra pair of eyes to watch her isn't a terrible notion."

The sable eyes of the younger man turned hopeful once again. "Really?" he wondered.

Vegeta refocused his attention on Bulla, snuggled against his chest with a wide smile. Goten couldn't help but grin too. She did not fear the man the universe knew as a killer. Never would she know that dark side of him. This was her father; her love for him was as innate to her as fighting was to a Saiyan. Goten heard Vegeta clear his throat, and he gazed once more at the older man.

"This universe can be unkind to little girls, Goten," the prince resumed. His voice had grown a touch quieter than before. "I'll make sure she suffers no fools, but I won't always be around. Trunks may not always be either. Promise me you'll protect her when she needs it."

Goten took a breath at the seriousness of Vegeta's words. "I promise," he vowed swiftly. He gazed at the newborn with all the sweetness inside him.

In response, Bulla started to coo and reach her arms out to the young boy. The action made Goten smile, but seemed to cause a vein to appear on Vegeta's forehead. The youngest Son attempted to not aggravate the man any further and did not reach for the baby. Undaunted, Bulla stretched towards him, prompting a low, quiet growl to reverberate in Vegeta's throat. Goten took this as his cue to head towards the door.

"I…I'll go see if I can find Trunks and tell him to forget the toys," he said. Exiting, Goten stopped in his tracks as Vegeta said his name one last time.

"Goten."

"Er, yes Vegeta?"

There was a beat of silence, not counting Bulla's baby noises, as Goten saw the penetrative gaze Vegeta casted. If expressions could control movements, the younger Saiyan convinced himself that Vegeta was keeping him planted where he stood.

"Always remember your place, boy," he cautioned darkly.

Goten felt a chill up his spine, and Bulla ceased her cooing as Vegeta uttered his warning. He wasn't a hundred percent sure what the Saiyan Prince meant, but it made his skin crawl. Darting his eyes to the infant, even her angelic face seemed to be affected by the intense comment. He swallowed hard, nodding in respect before departing the room.

As he walked away from Bulla's room, Goten picked up his speed to hightail it out. Heading off to find Trunks, the not-so veiled threat echoed in his ears. Goten would be haunted by it in the years to come, even when unaware as to the root. An incessant reverberation that would stick to him like a shadow.

Always remember your place, boy.

It had been a long time since Goten thought of that first promise, but Vegeta's warning lived in his head always.

The hot water dripping down from the shower stung Goten's skin as a scalding reminder. Last night, he had certainly forgotten his place. His rank, his class, his brotherly relationship…all of it dissipated as rapidly as the water circling the drain below.

Goten claimed following Bulla to the terrace was him being protective, but he knew there was another reason. The thought crossed his mind multiple times since the night of her birthday several months prior. It crossed his mind when he trained with her, when she came over for dinner, when she was pinned beneath him in the dirt. It crossed his mind when they teased each other back and forth, when he fell asleep next to her on the ship, when he danced with her at the ball, when he finally had her lips on his again.

How unbrotherly it felt to sneak onto her balcony and scoop her up in his arms, kissing her to try and quell the fire below. Only, the kisses didn't extinguish the flame; they doused it in gasoline, and Goten was willing to burn down the whole palace for a chance to taste her.

He promised Bulla he'd always keep her safe. Some protector he was though; Goten could fell almost any foe that would approach him, but he failed to control the most dangerous threat: himself.

Nevermind that the princess pleaded with him to stay, to indulge. Goten was at a loss for words as his mind drifted back to her hands on him. She felt so good, tasted so good…pulling away in that moment was more difficult than he cared to admit, in more ways than one.

His gaze turned from the drain to the still stiff member below; throbbing due to lack of release. The past few months of abstaining from indulgence were catching up to him. Goten attempted to tell himself that were he to give in, he could just think of something other than Bulla. However, as much as he wished that were true, the hybrid knew there wasn't anything or anyone else that would occupy his mind. He felt his mouth go dry, his hands go clammy—it hurt at this point to not give himself a release.

Stop…

The same song and dance in his head of trying to resist his urges continued to play, but the tune was losing its strength. During the prior evening, he had nearly come undone from just her obstructed touch. The exploration itself was almost chaste; the heiress discovering his body, albeit over his clothes, for the first time. But there was nothing pure about the lust it awoke inside…he wanted her hands everywhere. Her mouth everywhere. The slight hint of mischief that twinkled in her eyes as she watched his reaction to her touch, Kami forgive him, he even thought about her making that face covered in his essence.

How could such a vision be both simultaneously sickening and all-consuming?

Goten was well-aware she was no longer a child. No longer a young preteen obsessed with aging before her time. She proved to him time and time again just how bright, how intelligent she was. How mature and refined, all while still keeping her good-humored and playful nature. When he looked at Bulla, he didn't see that little girl he swore to protect, but a beautiful woman who he would give every limb of his body to keep whole.

Even from him.

If allowing himself release helped to do just that, maybe he could partake. He would just have to keep his thoughts off of her. The half-Saiyan brought his hand down to grip the tormenting body part in question. It almost hurt to touch, the tension from lack of indulging. Slowly, Goten worked through the pain, his mind racing with images of as many distractions as possible.

Green grass, childhood, cloud watching with Gohan, with Bulla…no!

He shook his head. The firmness of his hold increased as he attempted to think of other things again. Insects, dirt, rolling around in the dirt with…stop!

The groan he unleashed was one of frustration, not pleasure. Goten had to get his mind off of her. Though he wasn't touching her right then, the guilt of doing what he was doing seemed so unbefitting of what a Saiyan Princess deserved. What she deserved. But, try as he might, his mind swirled with only thoughts of an ocean, a sky at high noon, those eyes…

Goten was truthful the night before when he told Bulla this; she never left his head.

"Shit," he cursed as one last thought of her face from the night before prompted him to free the hold on his member. It ached to be so close to finishing, but Goten did not want to cross that threshold. Even if it meant enduring the uncomfortable torment in the meantime, better that than the alternative.

With enough restraint to prevent significant damage, Goten punched the wall. He feared there was no going back from the night prior. Whatever resistance he built up, it was so close to crumbling. His attempts at decency, at loyalty to his friend, one of his mentors, and to Bulla herself…he watched it go down the drain along with the soapy water below. What possessed him to act on those inhibitions? Goten knew he was near helpless upon seeing Bulla and her radiance at the ball, but what manner of animal released once he was in the gardens with her?

Maybe we can both blame it on the moons…

Curiosity piqued, the demi-Saiyan wondered if his lighthearted joke held any weight. Could he have been affected by the Souljin moons? Or was it something else entirely?

His body shivered as the water started to turn cold as he arrived at a chilling realization. One thing was for certain: the only way to find out was by going to the only person he knew as an expert on all things Saiyan.

Bulla's father.

"Again!"

"Again? That's like the fifth time, Kusa!"

"Five times incorrectly. Do it again."

Trunks groaned as he attempted to maneuver his sword the way Prince Kusa had instructed him to do. True to his word, Trunks showed up for sword training, much to his and Kusa's surprise. Even so, it was clear the heir to the Souljin throne was not taking it easy on the half-Saiyan. If anything, Trunks thought, he figured Kusa was discreetly getting back at him for his attitude.

Still, given that his evening ended on a rather sour note to say the least, Trunks welcomed the distraction.

"Again, Prince Trunks. Keep your elbows high."

"If they go any higher, Kusa, they're not coming back down!"

"Honestly, it's like instructing a teenager. Always a comment for everything," Kusa bemoaned. "Surely, the heir to the Saiyan throne has had etiquette training at least?"

Trunks paused for a second as he pondered the comment. The heir to the Saiyan throne. It somehow sounded far more heavy-handed than expected. Though Trunks at some points in his life showed interest in the history of Saiyans, it didn't exactly carry with him through adulthood. Bulla had more natural curiosity about their lineage. Hell, even Goten had for a while too; Trunks remembered that his father told a handful of stories to the young boy who seemed to love them. He wasn't quite sure when things shifted for him, but Trunks knew that he hadn't always been kind to Vegeta when it came to embracing that history.

"No throne," Trunks replied. His gaze diverted to the dusty grounds of the barracks. "Not anymore, at least."

"Even so," Kusa retorted, "one would think the remainder of the Saiyans would need an example to follow."

"Aside from a few of us," he replied gently, "not a lot around to preserve that."

Kusa pursed his lips to the side of his mouth. "Interesting," the royal added, "given your father's behavior, I would have presumed otherwise."

Trunks lowered his sword. "What do you mean?"

A low chuckle emitted from Prince Kusa's throat. "Your father is prideful to a fault, Prince Trunks," the Souljin Heir commented. "I can't imagine he would let his beloved legacy fall to the wayside."

The demi-Saiyan halted his movements. He knew Kusa wasn't wrong, but he also knew there were layers to Vegeta that most couldn't understand; including him at times. For once, Trunks not only felt defensive of his lineage, but proud of it, too.

"For a culture that is predominantly made up of old Saiyan traditions, I'm surprised you feel that way," the hybrid commented.

"Believe me, were it up to me, that wouldn't be the case."

Trunks was intrigued by the statement, his eyes broadened with curiosity as to what Kusa meant.

"As ardently as I admire my own father," Kusa began again, "his fascination with the Saiyan side of our genes is misplaced, I feel."

"Why?"

Kusa's nose turned upward. "Because, I too, have studied years of genealogy and history, Prince Trunks," he said plainly, "the Sadalan Civil War decimated a planet and could have destroyed the Saiyan race entirely. Perhaps it should have, and saved the universe a bit of pain."

"You wouldn't be here then," Trunks answered all too simply.

His companion shrugged. "Be that as it may," he continued, "maybe it would have been for the better."

Prince Kusa went through the motions of the technique Trunks was trying to perfect with ease, as the younger man watched with engrossed attention. "Surely, you must struggle to reconcile your own genetics, Prince Trunks," Kusa continued, gracefully demonstrating his swordsmanship skills. "I've a much smaller amount of Saiyan blood, but it still sings to me, even when I prefer it didn't."

Clenching his jaw, Kusa's muscles reflected the tension within his words. "I do not wish to be associated with a culture that prided itself on conquests and unnecessary violence."

With elegant grace, Kusa finished his display, while Trunks reflected on what he said. Being hybrid, he knew the struggles of trying to lead two lives; one as a human and the other as a Saiyan. Both were intrinsically part of his makeup. He supposed he'd never be able to completely separate the two, even if he had longed to do so in his youth.

"You're not entirely wrong," Trunks stated.

"Tell me," Kusa wondered, "you must notice the difference in your makeup compared to that of Prince Vegeta. The rest of you hybrids as well seem less apt to indulge in hubris. Even this Son Goku, for all his Saiyan genetics, was a product of the environment he was raised in."

"Look, I know my dad isn't known for his warmth…"

"Putting it lightly."

"But I can't blame him for how he is either," Trunks added. His mind drifted to the sweet moment before the ball when his father assisted him. A quiet smile started to form, his resolve firm. "You've only known isolation, and for a long time, he only knew enslavement."

A twinge of hurt impacted Trunks' tone; he had never quite said it aloud before.

The lavender-haired man continued. "Dad's incredibly prideful of his heritage, yes, but he's someone who has lost it bit by bit over the years. There will never be another pureblooded Saiyan born to this universe and I can imagine that's a lonely thought.

"You and the rest of Souljin have been able to incorporate the old customs, and my dad has not. Whether or not you like that side of your heritage, at least you have more of a choice than he did."

As he ended his reasoning, Trunks found himself wondering where those thoughts came from. It wasn't something he dwelled on often, yet at the crux of his connection with Vegeta, he knew his father longed to be understood. Though Trunks was unable to in many ways, there was still a sliver of himself that did.

Prince Kusa and his stoic demeanor remained as such, but Trunks could tell the tension in his jaw loosened from earlier. This was not an unreasonable man by any stretch and even he seemed to be pondering what had been elocuted. If anything he seemed almost…impressed.

"You keep surprising me, Prince Trunks."

"Is that a good thing?"

Kusa let out a wry grin before knocking Trunks' sword away with ease. Trunks blinked, trying to process how quick his counterpart struck. An impressed chuckle emitted from his lips.

Using his sword to flip Trunks' fallen weapon into the air, Kusa caught it with ease. He extended it to the demi-Saiyan with a telling nod. "Again," the Prince-Consort instructed pointedly.

"You both are acting so weird this morning."

Against the background noises of the bustling Souljin City Bazaar, Pan's declaration brought her two distracted friends out of their respective reveries. The chaotic market was filled with various vendors and customers, the city's ambience amplified with activity. All three women had been eager to explore since arriving, but had only gotten the chance to visit that day. Yet, both Bulla and Marron appeared distracted and disengaged.

Pan was always the observant one to notice the odd behavior of her friends. Bulla seemed to be in better sorts, more pensive than anything. Marron, on the other hand, appeared like she was holding in a wellspring of emotion. The blonde faked a smile when she realized she had been caught.

"Sorry Pan," Marron confessed, "a bit…tired from last night."

"What? Too much energy spent dancing with a handsome prince?" Pan teased.

The human tensed before brandishing another faux grin. "Probably," she said simply.

"What's your excuse then, Blue? I'll give you Toge, but Uncle Goten sure as hell ain't handsome."

Pan chuckled, expecting some sort of reaction either in form of laughter or protest, but neither came. Marron had gone back to drifting off, and Bulla mindlessly played around with jewelry at the stall in front of them. Neither seemed to have heard what she said. The youngest member groaned as she realized she was not making headway. "Why yes, Pan!" the quarterling said to herself sarcastically. "How astute! You sure are the smart one in this bunch."

Bulla finally put down the zoisite bracelets she had been rummaging through. "Did you say something, Pan?" the princess responded, finally acknowledging her friend.

Her ebony-haired friend rubbed her temples. "Kami," she lamented, "you two are off in Lalaland while I'm trying to enjoy this little vacation of ours."

As the perused a few more stands, a standalone boutique was situated near the bazaar. Pan's eyes lit up.

"I'm gonna run in here for a bit," she explained. "You want to check it out, Bulla?"

The heiress almost answered yes, but noticed Marron was still absentminded at the next stand over. Though subtle, the look on her face appeared troubled. Bulla's heartstrings tugged.

"Actually, go ahead, Pan. I see a couple more stands I want to stop at," she said.

Pan shrugged and made her way inside, leaving Bulla alone with the distracted older woman.

Oblivious to the conversation around her, Marron picked up a pair of white gloves on the stand and traced her thumb over the material. Smooth, pristine, cool to the touch. They were almost identical to the pair Trunks had worn last night. The blonde couldn't hide the heat permeating from her cheeks, remembering in vivid detail the events that had unfolded.

"You okay, Marron?"

Her attention reverted back to her blue-haired friend, dropping the gloves back on the stand. Bulla raised her eyebrow in a curious manner, looking eerily evocative of her father. Marron displayed a twinge of pain for a moment, not wanting to expose the sordid details of what occurred between Bulla's brother and herself. It was hard enough not sharing her true feelings, and the night before only made it unbearably complicated. Bulla didn't need to be dragged in the middle of things.

"Just an eventful evening," Marron said, faking a small smile. Her blue eyes brightened a bit as something crossed her mind. "I should be asking you about your night though while Pan is distracted…"

"Shh!" Bulla exclaimed. She brought her hand to cover Marron's mouth for a brief moment while she observed their surroundings. Satisfied that Pan was still in the boutique, Bulla removed her palm from the human's mouth. "Sorry," she apologized, "I still don't want her to know."

Marron gave a sympathetic look. "I understand," she acknowledged, her words ringing especially true.

"It was…"

Bulla couldn't help but blush as a wide grin crept on her face. "It was a near perfect night," she answered breathlessly.

"Oh Bulla," Marron began again, beaming. "I'm so happy for you. Goten looked completely entranced yesterday."

Flushing deeper, Bulla cleared her throat. "Did he?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"It was obvious he couldn't take his eyes off of you," her friend returned. When Marron saw Bulla's smile fade to a flat line, she raised her eyebrow. "What's that face for?" she wondered.

Bulla checked the coast to make sure Pan was still occupied. "There were…developments," the heiress confessed.

Marron momentarily forgot about her own drama and grew wide-eyed with excitement at Bulla's statement. "What kind of developments are we talking about?" she questioned, eagerly tapping her friend's arm.

"Goten and I wandered the water gardens alone," Bulla began, "and well, we ended up kissing. A lot."

Bulla winced as Marron's shaking of her arm grew more furious. "You did?!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, but watch my arm, Mare!"

"Sorry, sorry—but Bulla, this is great! Why do you look so upset? Isn't this what you wanted?"

The princess turned her attention to the booth nearby, tracing her fingers against a multitude of colorful silk scarves. She tried to find the right words. "There's more," Bulla shared quietly.

"More?"

"Goten…came to my room last night…"

Marron suddenly got a bit protective. "Excuse me, he did what now?" she said, becoming animated.

In response, Bulla threw up her hands and shook them. "Hold on, hold on," she insisted, "not what you think!"

"Bulla, don't tell me he—"

"No," she answered firmly. A saddened sigh passed her lips. "No, he didn't."

Marron softened her features, once again appearing sympathetic. "Bulla, what happened?" she inquired.

"I thought we finally pushed past whatever doubts he had," Bulla revealed. "Goten kept kissing me and saying how he couldn't get me out of his head…but," she paused again. "Then he stopped. His demeanor totally changed. He looked like he had committed a crime or something. Even said he wasn't any better than Toge," Bulla continued.

"Toge? What's up with Toge?"

Oh right, hadn't even gotten to explain that whole thing yet…

"Doesn't matter," Bulla replied, still keeping an eye out for Pan's return. She sighed. "Point is, Marron," she began again, "it became very clear last night he has his hang ups still."

Marron attempted to respond, but was cut off by her friend's continuation.

Bulla lowered her head. "He seemed so convinced he wasn't a good person, Marron. Like Goten not a good person? How could he possibly think that? Unless…" she trailed off for a second. It was hard to reconcile the man she knew with who he believed himself to be.

"He's clearly wrong," Marron answered gently. "If Goten wasn't a good guy, I don't believe he'd even respond that way. I think he's just being hard on himself.

"What do you mean?"

"B, he probably knows this is a big deal especially given that you're…"

"Younger?"

Her friend blushed as she shook her head. "A virgin," she said quietly.

Bulla's eyes widened. "Why does that matter?" the heiress asked. Marron made a face.

"Bulla," she began again, "his whole life, you're someone he's been expected to treat a certain way, and now that your dynamic is changing, he's feeling a lot of guilt about it."

"Because Kami forbid that I grow up, right?"

"Of course you're allowed to grow up and want these kinds of things, Bulla," Marron reasoned. She sighed, trying to find the best words to use. "Goten is just convinced he's not allowed to want those things with you."

The bluette's expression grew somber and pensive. Marron's insight was indeed valuable, and Bulla knew in her heart that Goten's vacillating actions were a result of his impeccable integrity. As much as she wanted him to throw all of it out the window, that wasn't who he was. It was what she admired most about him.

"So," Bulla said quietly, "how do I convince him he is allowed?"

Marron placed her hand on her friend's shoulder sympathetically. "If I'm being honest, B, he's gotta figure that one out for himself," she explained. "Otherwise, it won't sink in."

The heiress pouted, used to getting her way with most things in life. If there was a shoe collection she coveted, she'd buy it. If there was an invention in her brain, she built it. For once in the genius' eighteen years, there wasn't anything Bulla could actively do to change her outcome.

Save for wish.

"What if he never does?" Bulla wondered quietly.

She felt Marron's arms wrap around her in a tight embrace. "Stay positive, B," Marron encouraged. "You just never know."

Bulla returned the gesture, grateful for her friend's sweet nature. As they separated, the heiress nudged the blonde.

"You're lucky, Mare," Bulla stated. "The one person you happen to want seems to want you back," she added with a newfound grin. Bulla had been keen to notice Zasso's attention towards Marron and it made her happy to see her friend be on the receiving end.

Stunned by the comment, it took a minute for Marron to register that Bulla was talking about the Souljin Ambassador and not her brother. After the initial wave of panic passed, Marron resumed her smiling façade, thinking of more pleasant things.

"Perhaps," she surmised.

Bulla was about to question her friend, when Pan finally rejoined them. She stepped back and dropped the prior discussion, not wanting to rouse any suspicions.

"So," Pan started to say, "you two finally decide to rejoin the realm of the living?"

"A lot of big talk from someone who, just days ago, was fighting for her life at breakfast," Bulla joked back.

"Was not!" Pan insisted, hands on her hips in defiance.

Marron's laugh rang through the air. "Careful Pan," she cautioned, "your pants are on fire."

While their younger friend huffed in protest, both Marron and Bulla continued to laugh at her expense. They weren't the only ones, however, to take notice of their presence.

"I thought I heard the voice of an angel…"

Marron whipped around to see a small entourage of guards accompanying both Prince Zasso and Prince Toge. All three women quickly bowed their heads. With a genteel nod, Zasso dismissed his attendants, leaving them alone with the Earthling women.

"I confess, I had hoped we'd run into you after our appointment nearby," Zasso said, smiling at the blonde. "I begged Toge to let us take the long way home through the bazaar."

"You know how I love to hear begging, brother," Toge stated in a low voice. His smirk widened when his gilded eyes gazed upon Bulla's frowning face. Somehow, her defiant stare only seemed to amuse him more.

"Would you two like to join us?" Marron asked, almost oblivious to the tension next to her. Those ocean orbs were fixated solely on the Souljin Ambasssdor.

"Actually," Zasso returned, "I was hoping, if it's not too much trouble of course, to escort you around myself. Assuming these ladies don't mind me whisking you away?"

"Oh no," Pan immediately insisted. She gently pushed Marron into the handsome royal, prompting the blonde to redden. "I'm sure Marron would be thrilled to get a personal tour from you!"

"Pan," Marron whispered, blushing even deeper once Zasso took her hand in his.

"I would be thrilled to have her," the affable prince grinned. Marron's blue eyes twinkled at his saccharine tone. His sweetness certainly was hard to refuse.

She turned to Bulla, searching for her approval as well. "Is that okay, Bulla?"

A mischievous look, similar to Pan, graced the heiress' face. "Absolutely," she said with a wave of the hand. "You two kids have fun."

Rolling her eyes, Marron laced her arm around Zasso's. "I'd love to, Zasso," she said earnestly. The prince could hardly contain his smile.

"Then let me show you some of my favorite spots," Zasso returned eagerly. He dipped his head towards the other women. "Thank you both," the Souljin Ambassador said graciously. "Toge, you'll ensure these fine young ladies have a safe return?"

Bulla's heart sank as she saw Marron and Zasso already too far away for her to protest. She edged in their direction but stopped herself. Doing her best to avoid Toge's unrelenting gaze, Bulla started to meander the various stalls.

"Hi Toge," Pan greeted to break the silence.

He nodded in response. "Son Pan," Toge acknowledged. His greeting was quick to Pan; his attention lay elsewhere.

"Princess," Toge shifted towards the half-Saiyan and brandished a toothy leer. "Radiant as ever."

Her scowl remained unchanged, and not unnoticed by Pan.

"How nice it was to have you in my arms last night," Toge continued, "I'll admit, I was a bit disappointed I didn't wake up with you in them."

"Happy to disappoint," Bulla said sharply.

Toge didn't balk at the comment. In fact, he appeared entertained by her bite.

"Believe me," Toge remarked slowly, "you wouldn't be disappointed."

Bulla hmphed and returned her attention to the various scarves and shawls at the stand. Ignoring the prince only seemed to egg him on more, however.

"My offer still stands, you know," he said, leaning over her shoulder. Bulla felt goosebumps trail up her spine, and not the kind she felt whenever she was near Goten.

"If I recall," Bulla snapped, "I said you'd never get that chance."

A rare frown appeared on Toge's face; not unlike the petulant grimace a child told no would make. After a beat, his typical leer reanimated. He pressed against her backside and that same, uneasy feeling Bulla had with him the night before bubbled up again. She silently seethed as he became far too close for comfort.

"You should know I enjoy a challenge, Princess," Toge murmured. His fingers traced her backside before Bulla yanked herself away.

"Enough," the younger royal said firmly. "I'd suggest you find another way to entertain yourself, Prince Toge. We're leaving."

She grabbed Pan's hand, who was still in the middle of trying to process the entire exchange. Walking away, Bulla could hear the crunching of footsteps behind them. Someone wasn't taking no for an answer.

"So tense, Princess," Toge called after them, "you definitely then are in need of a good fu—"

"Hey! Prince Asshole!"

Pan whipped around to the stunned Toge, shocked to see the reaction from the quarter-Saiyan. "She said no. I don't know if that word means something different up here but in case it does, it means back off and leave her alone!"

Bulla had to contain a chuckle in her throat as Pan unleashed her fury onto the prince. While she had been prepared to give Toge a piece of her mind, Bulla was more than happy to let Pan have a go at him.

After absorbing her words, Toge regained his mettle and formed an impressed smirk. "Very well, Son Pan," he stated, "I see we are done for the day."

He bowed to them both, the spikes of his ebony hair barely inches away. "Should you change your mind though, Princess," Toge finished in a darker tone. "You know where to find me."

Bulla was about to yell a response, but Toge was already heading in the opposite direction. She cursed under her breath. In her gut, a sinking feeling told her this would not be the last attempt by the prince.

"What a jerk," Pan muttered once the coast was clear. She frowned. "Sorry I didn't intervene earlier," the quarterling apologized.

"Nothing to apologize for," Bulla insisted.

"Showed his true colors, at least," Pan continued. "I really didn't like the way he was looking at you," she added protectively.

Bulla smiled at her friend's defensiveness. "Same," she agreed, "but I have a feeling you would have knocked his lights out if he hadn't backed down."

"No question."

The two laughed at how quickly Pan's reply came. "For what it's worth though, Blue," she murmured, "I've always got your back."

A sharp pang stung the insides of Bulla's chest; while Pan's devotion was touching, it only made harder the secrets she was keeping from her best friend. Maybe if she said something, Pan would be as understanding as she was at that moment. On the other hand, given her friend's personality, it was hard to conceive a scenario where Pan wasn't bothered by either Bulla's secrecy or her desire for Goten. As much as it pained her to stay quiet, Bulla was still trying to make sense of it all. She needed to figure out her own situation before she could even attempt to bring Pan into the fold. Bulla hoped that sooner rather than later, she'd be able to.

"I know," Bulla replied, a faint strain accompanying her tone. She squeezed her friend's hand in thanks.

Beaming, Pan returned the squeeze. Her eyes darted to a section of the bazaar they had yet to explore. "Say," she began, "since Toge's gone, what do you say we check out the rest of this place?"

"This side of you is so new, Pan!" Bulla exclaimed with glee. Her eyes narrowed mischievously. "I've been trying to get you interested in shopping for years. What's changed?"

Pan crimsoned, and immediately looked away. "Just…looking for souvenirs," she insisted, making a beeline to the next available booth. The bag in her hand from the prior boutique was clear and Bulla could make out the silhouette of a dress. Laughing to herself, the heiress shook her head in amusement.

Guess she wasn't the only one growing up.

"Vegeta, can I ask you a question?"

The Saiyan Prince was not expecting company on the barracks wall, especially not the son of his longtime rival. Perspiration trickled down his brow, having just finished a workout not long before. It was the second workout of the day if the early morning was also to be counted. Without turning around, he kept his arms folded and focused across the castle yard. "You have the annoying habit of disturbing my solitude, Goten," he said derisively. "Twice in one week, at that," Vegeta scoffed.

Goten shyly stood at a distance from the other Saiyan man, not wanting to irk him any further. "I'll be quick," he promised. Vegeta produced an annoyed click of his tongue, but otherwise, did not object.

"What is it, then?"

His stern gaze only made Goten more nervous, but the younger halfling resolved to get his questions answered.

"Can…well…can our demeanor change due to moonlight?"

This caught Vegeta off guard; his eyebrows raised in curiosity. "What brought that on?" the prince questioned.

"Well, maybe I'm imagining things, but," Goten didn't even know how to explain himself. He couldn't just blurt out the fantasy that lingered in his brain regarding Vegeta's only daughter. No, he had to phrase it innocuously. "I've been feeling more…Saiyan, I guess, since coming here."

"How so?"

"Like," he paused again, "like I'm more in tune with that side of me compared to usual I guess? My sense of smell, even my desire to train and fight, it just seems amplified here. I didn't know if it was because Souljin had two moons."

Vegeta's lips creased to the side of his face. "You were born without a tail," he said plainly, "moonlight would really only influence you if you had one and could transform. The Souljins are an anomaly on that front. They have no access to the Oozaru state."

"Is that the sole effect? Just the ability to become Oozaru?"

"Yes," Vegeta responded. "Why did you suspect moonlight of all things?" he wondered.

"Seemed to be the only major difference," Goten replied, "plus, I remember some of your stories about the transformation. It got me thinking."

His counterpart's eyebrows furrowed, mind deep in thought. "Could just be the product of the environment," Vegeta surmised, "even diluted, Souljins seem to keep a handful of old Saiyan customs."

"Maybe," Goten agreed warily. He still had suspicions, but didn't know how else to voice them without revealing the bulk of it came about around Bulla.

Vegeta released an amused scoff. "You seem distressed by this, boy," he chided.

"Not distressed. More…confused than anything?"

"I wouldn't see it as a negative," Vegeta said with a flick of his wrist. "I guess I should appreciate that even one of you hybrids has some semblance of Saiyan genetics working."

Goten assumed this was as close to a compliment as he could expect from Vegeta. His thinned mouth turned upwards. "I guess," he replied with a smile.

A thrum of silence passed before Vegeta turned his attention towards the vast water gardens on the other side of the barrack's wall. The roar of the mountain's waterfall reverberated throughout, filling the air with a thunderous rumbling. Goten observed the older man, sensing a small shift in mood from the earlier moment they shared. Though his demeanor was still calm, and his ki controlled as best he could, inside his heart rate tripled as Vegeta changed the subject.

"Did you enjoy the ball…"

The Saiyan Prince did not pose this as a question so much as an expectation. The younger halfling shifted in place. Was Vegeta aware of what had occurred? It unsettled him deeply but if there was one thing he had learned, keeping his nerve intact around the pureblood was necessary.

"It was…nice," Goten answered simply. He tried to keep it vague. "If you like that sort of thing, I guess."

"I don't."

The sharpness of his tone was reminiscent of when the prince was extra agitated. Goten started to tap his foot before regaining control of the body part. He could not show any anxiousness.

"Tell me truthfully, Goten," Vegeta began, "that prince Bulla danced with. Your ki went wild during the ball. Why is that?"

Goten thought of his response for a moment, wondering exactly what to reveal. Suddenly, the vague memory that sprouted earlier in the day sprung to mind. His gentle smile revealed a tenderness that couldn't be faked. "A long time ago, I promised you I'd always protect Bulla," the younger demi-Saiyan said softly. "Toge isn't exactly someone I trust with her," he finished.

Vegeta looked almost amused. "One way to put it," he muttered under his breath. Clearing his throat, the older man continued. "Still, you're awfully devoted to a promise you made when you were eleven."

Not breaking eye contact, the halfling made sure to be steady with his tone. "Your family is like my family, Vegeta," the hybrid commented, "I'd do anything to keep them safe. Besides…"

He turned his head thoughtfully, a small smile coming to fruition.

"I always keep my promises," Goten said earnestly.

Vegeta tightened his jaw in observation as he analyzed the younger Saiyan's face. Closing his eyes, the prince seemed to accept the answer Goten had given. "I suppose you do," Vegeta responded.

As Vegeta started to head towards the direction of the stairs, Goten let out a quiet sigh of relief. His breath caught in his throat, however, when the unexpected grip of the Saiyan Prince seized his wrist. Goten felt it stiffen, but remained calm; attempting to not rouse any suspicion. He could hear the intense huff of air Vegeta took before speaking.

"Your place, boy," the prince added softly, "you remember where that is?"

Goten's blood ran cold at the intimidating question. He wet his lips in an attempt to fix his dry mouth. Much like his time with Vegeta on the ship, Goten made sure to not waver his gaze. It was the same dark stare Vegeta gave him at the ball. The same eyes that demanded truth.

Beneath you. Beneath her. Low-Class. Third-Class. Take your pick.

"It's still being determined," Goten answered back. He didn't know what madness possessed him to answer that way, but somehow, the words fell out. The comment seemed to surprise Vegeta, who was expecting something far more subservient. And yet, the Saiyan Prince did not seem to mind so much.

"Clever," Vegeta praised. His gaze darkened. "Perhaps too clever, Third-Class."

The halfling did his best to hide the nervousness inside. "Who me? Kakarot's son?" Goten sarcastically teased. Even Vegeta held a small chuckle in his throat.

"Your clown father aside," Vegeta resumed, "you and I know you're smarter than you let on."

Goten didn't have time to appreciate the compliment. Trying to not falter or wince, the demi-Saiyan remained stone-faced as Vegeta's grip tightened. The royal leaned in to utter one more statement. "And if you are as smart as I believe, Goten," he added obscurely, "you'll do well to remember where that is."

He released the younger man's wrist as he continued up the stairwell. The clacking of his boots hitting the concrete echoed in the warm, Souljin air. Goten rubbed the pulsating carpal as he stared at its reddened coloring. Vegeta didn't spare any delicacy with his iron grip.

"Where is that, Vegeta?" the hybrid wondered, still focused on his sore wrist. He probably should have left well enough alone, but the challenge stirred something inside. The younger man wanted to hear it from Vegeta himself. He, too, was also keeping his cards close to his chest and speaking in vague terms. If Vegeta truly had an objection, Goten needed to know.

Vegeta paused; the question had been unexpected. While he didn't rotate back to answer, Goten heard the prince's gravel-toned timbre resonant like a tympanum.

"It's not my job to remind you, brat," he said, his usual annoyed tone returning. "Besides," Vegeta continued as he resumed his climb up the stairs. "Should you ever give me a reason to, you won't like what comes next."

And there it was.

Part of Goten had considered going to Vegeta directly to tell him what was going on with Bulla. Perhaps if he pleaded, nay, implored the gruff Saiyan pureblood, maybe he could have persuaded him. Surely, Vegeta was not so far beyond reach? But his decisive response, plus knowing what he knew about the Saiyan Prince after all these years, Goten realized this was a likely lost cause.

Some battles just could not be won.

"Noted," Goten replied quietly.

He wasn't sure if Vegeta had even heard the response; the Saiyan was already resuming his trek back inside the palace, and Goten was still looking at his wrist with great interest. The black and blue bruise beginning to form only made him think of the one person he had just been essentially instructed to pay no mind to.

Trunks surprisingly felt good as he left his first training lesson. Kusa hadn't been easy on him, that much was clear, but even so, Trunks came out of the session in one piece. Despite the strain of the prior evening weighing heavily on him, the prince decided to try to put that energy towards something productive. He still had a long way to go, but at least he was one step closer.

As Trunks perused the maze in the water gardens on his walk back to the palace, he took note of its splendor. Having been fairly distracted since his arrival, the lavender-haired man realized he hadn't given much thought to his surroundings. It was a beautiful planet, he had to admit. Part of him had been resistant to anything Souljin given his disregard for a certain ambassador. Still, even Trunks could not deny the mesmeric atmosphere.

Though initially he passed a few various palace staff members and court attendants, the gardens were fairly quiet. As he approached the edge of the maze near the gazebos, he figured he must have been the only one in that section.

Until, the sound that made him feel a strange fluttering in his stomach every time he heard it, cascaded past his ears.

He knew Marron's laugh anywhere.

Trunks stopped in his tracks, almost forsaking her instructions to leave her alone and run to her. But, just as his feet picked up to seek her out, another familiar noise permeated the air.

"Oh Marron, your words sting! I was merely a child when that happened."

Trunks peeked around the corner of the hedge maze to reveal both Marron and Zasso walking in tandem, laughing together. His eyes widened at the sight; from what he recalled of her earlier plans, Trunks thought Marron was spending the day with his sister and Pan. Seeing her alone with Zasso certainly took the wind out of his sails, especially given the previous night. Her precious giggling only made the invisible wound in his chest burn.

"Forgive me!" Marron returned to Zasso, chortling still. "You just don't seem the type to go pantsless in the middle of an important ceremony."

"In all fairness," Zasso replied, "it was a dare from Toge. It was well worth the embarrassment to get several of his toys."

Marron only laughed harder. "I'll be sure to remember that in case I need anything from you," the pretty blonde chuckled.

Trunks continued to hide around the corner of the hedge, keeping his ki low and undetectable. It was hard to do when his heart raced so fervently. The speed increased tenfold when he observed Prince Zasso inch towards the petite woman, feeling far more comfortable with standing close to her.

"Your laugh could soothe even the hardest of hearts, I dare say," Zasso whispered gently. His golden eyes watched Marron's face intently. She unleashed a tiny breath when the Souljin Ambassador reached to tuck several strands of hair behind her ear. Her face reddened at the contact, and a flinch of pain appeared before dissipating once more.

"Not all, Your Grace."

Ouch.

The much taller man pulled back for a second to analyze her expression. "I've been hesitant to ask you myself," he started to say, "but forgive my curiosity. Are you referring to Prince Trunks?"

Behind the bush, Trunks' cobalt eyes grew to the size of lemons. How dare he ask! Yet, even so, Trunks himself was curious to know how she'd respond.

Marron paused before shifting her body over the soribashi. Her jaw clenched, and the blonde did her best to not seem too bothered by the comment. Trunks knew her tells well enough to know that she was deep in thought. Zasso seemed to also pick up on this.

"Lady Marron?"

A weak smile formed on her pale face. "Let's not talk about Trunks," she insisted with a wave of hand. "Doesn't matter."

Ouch again.

Zasso joined her over the railing. "I wouldn't dream of making you discuss something you aren't comfortable with," the Souljin man responded, "but if you need an ear, I'm here."

His kind words caused Marron to slowly increase the size of her smile. "Your nature is refreshing," she said. "You're too kind to me, Zasso."

It was his turn to chuckle. "You said that last night as well, Lady Marron."

"Did I?" she wondered absentmindedly. The entire night was simultaneously blurry and clear as day.

"Any time you speak, it leaves an imprint on my soul."

Trunks used every ounce of restraint within him to not unleash the loudest groan of his life, all while his eyes rolled with annoyance.

"Zasso," Marron began again, feeling trepidation at the fact that not even a day ago, she spent the night with another man in her room. If he knew, surely the handsome man beside her would want nothing to do with her. Marron sighed with a heaviness all her own. "You don't want someone like me," she stated, the guilt palpable.

The Souljin Prince inched over to her side even closer. "I told you before, you're wonderful," Zasso said with complete assurance.

Her face fell. "I'm not as wonderful as you may think," she answered with sorrow.

"Rubbish," he insisted all too quickly.

"But Zasso…"

"Marron, we haven't known each other very long, but you've managed to capture my attention more than any other woman I've met. You're kind, inquisitive, lovely…everything a man could want. I'd say that makes you rather remarkable."

Both Marron and Trunks, though positioned in different areas, listened to the Souljin Ambassador with undivided focus.

"I have spent many years choosing duty over everything," Prince Zasso continued. He turned up towards the dying sun overhead before returning his attention to Marron. "Over every major decision, and every little one as well. Years in isolation made it all the harder to feel truly free and happy. However, as luck would have it, only when I did indeed set foot off the planet, was my joy renewed. What kismet to come across your path."

Marron could not contain the breath that left her lungs when his hand placed itself on her cheek. In his golden irises, she saw every fleck of honey and citrine. "Zasso," she barely could whisper.

Trunks glanced at the ground, attempting to look away, but part of him needed to see where this was all going. In spite of the pain, he raised his head.

"I don't want to waste my chance to pursue something that brings me joy," Zasso strummed his fingers against Marron's supple skin. He took a reverent breath. "How could something so beautiful," the ambassador began to say, "exist in the universe all this time without me knowing?"

His companion didn't have time to accept or reject the flattery; the Souljin Prince boldly dipped his head to reach her ever-parting lips.

Marron froze in place when Zasso kissed her. She had not expected him to finally make a move, nor had she expected his lips to feel so…nice.

Dropping her guard, Marron allowed herself to lean into the gesture. Pressing her mouth against the handsome Souljin man, Marron tried to bury any guilt that lay dormant from the previous evening. How could she worry about that when she was in the arms of someone who was so clear about how he felt?

Zasso enveloped the much smaller woman into his arms, and Marron's heart fluttered at how quickly he deepened the kiss. His fingers cupped her cheeks, bringing them closer. She returned the intensity, letting him guide them both. The smell of amber and mahogany potent amidst her nostrils.

Unbeknownst to the Souljin Prince and his lady, they had a silent observer. Their quiet audience stood in place, a painful gnawing inside his chest, akin to a thousand daggers piercing the skin, as he watched with tired eyes. The usually proud son of Vegeta felt anything but in that moment.

As his grip loosened from the hedge maze, his arm fell to the side in defeat. Trunks finally tore away from the sight, unable to watch any further. He thought after the previous night, things couldn't get any worse.

How wrong he was.

Much like Bulla a couple nights before, it was Goten's turn to situate himself against one of the grand, marbled columns in the hallway leading to the sleeping quarters. As moonlight started to grace the purple sky above, that in-between of dusk and twilight, he remained transfixed. With the two moons full and powerful, Goten wondered if his earlier hypothesis still held any merit. Pulling his sleeve up, his wrist was carrying the remnants of his earlier encounter with Vegeta. He sighed; the mark would be a staunch reminder to him so long as it remained.

"Hey, stranger."

Immediately, Goten yanked his sleeve back down to cover the bruise. Bulla held several colorful shopping bags, reminding him that the girls were out at the bazaar for the day. It took him a minute to regain his composure, realizing this was the first time he saw Bulla since he dipped out of her room.

"Hey," he returned quietly.

Bulla placed her bags down and leaned against the column alongside him. "Alright if I join you?" she questioned.

He blinked in astonishment. "Oh…I mean…of course," he scrambled to say. The nerves hit him, accompanied by that dark feeling of shame lying at the bottom of his gut.

She inched closer, resting her head on his arm and snaking his hand in hers. Goten was too stunned to reject the action.

"How was your day at the baz—"

"Not what I wanted to talk about," Bulla returned, gently tracing circles with her thumb.

Goten lowered his head. "Bulla," he whispered.

"You had me worried about you last night," she confessed sweetly. Turning her head to observe him with her lustrous, blue eyes, the heiress widened her glance. The guilt multiplied in his stomach. Her concern felt so unearned.

"Sorry, B-Chan," he said. There was a lump in his throat as he spoke.

Bulla was right next to him, and yet she felt miles away. "Goten," she began again, "you didn't do anything wrong."

The timbre in which she spoke was so sentimental, so understanding. Goten glanced back at his now covered wrist. Bulla's fingers were just beneath, oblivious to the mark her father left earlier. Goten reluctantly released her grasp.

"I should probably head back to my room," he said, starting to drift from her. The princess balked at the reaction, looking dumbfounded in his attempt to walk away. She started to glare at his backside.

"Is this what it's always going to be?" Bulla wondered sadly. "You and me having moments, and those moments not meaning anything?"

Her words paused his movements, and Goten twisted himself to answer. "They do mean something, B," Goten murmured, "you mean something."

"You keep saying that," the heiress responded. Teal orbs darted down to the tile. "I thought we finally had a breakthrough," she whispered, her voice frail.

Goten sighed. "I'm sorry," he spoke earnestly, "it hit me a little too late how unfair it was to act on those impulses. After everything you told me about Toge and others…I should have been more cognizant."

"Shouldn't that be my call?" Bulla said, a bit exhausted with the conversation.

He expanded his stare. "Bulla," Goten responded, "I—"

"Goten," she said firmly, "last night. Be honest. Why did you come to my room?"

Goten looked at her determined gape and lacked the words. He told her the night before that he had to see her, that he couldn't get his mind off of her. But, Goten also knew, his intentions went far deeper than just that. How could he tell her that he wanted to feel her lips on him again? To have their tongues dance like old partners on the ballroom floor? To sample her skin, even the skin that was unexposed to the world. That he wanted to—

Stop.

As the elder hybrid remained stuck in his head, Bulla grew tired of his lack of response. She clicked her tongue and sighed.

"Did you want to…be with me?"

"Be with you…?"

"Yeah."

"In…what way?"

She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Sex, Goten!" Bulla shouted, losing patience. "Coitus! Knocking boots! Whatever the hell you want to call it."

"Bulla!"

Footsteps down the hall indicated they weren't alone. In a panic, he put his hand over her mouth, closing the gap between them. As a palace servant walked by, the two stepped back to attempt to appear innocuous, with Goten removing his hand. The older woman smiled as the two hybrids looked awkwardly suspicious, but she didn't seem to notice. Once she had entered a new wing, Goten sighed as Bulla only glowered.

"Sure, scream it for the whole palace to hear," he hissed under his breath.

"Well maybe if you weren't walking on eggshells about it, I wouldn't have to," she retorted with a glare.

He scoffed. "It doesn't matter, Bulla," Goten continued, "whatever I felt or thought last night, was in the heat of the moment. I realized I pushed it too far and that was unfair to you."

Blue eyes broadened, tinged with hurt. "You know what's really unfair, Goten?" she began to say. A heavy sigh followed the statement. "You keep acting like you need to protect me from everything," Bulla bemoaned. "I know you've been that way most of my life, but I can make my own choices."

She stepped closer, her heartbeat pounding but her resolve strong. Her eyes tinged with a flicker of lidded desire. "Goten," Bulla whispered more softly, " you weren't the one controlling my hands last night."

As she said this, her palm pressed just to the side of where her hand had been the prior evening. Goten's look of shock only made her smirk. "You may have kissed me," Bulla murmured, "but I kissed you back. Multiple times."

"Bulla…"

"I let you in my room, my bed…with your hands underneath my slip, mind you."

His chest tightened, recalling her creamy skin and pure, white nightie. Her softness and her desire. "I shouldn't have done that, B," Goten said as she frowned.

"Well, you did," she answered back. "And I wanted you to! I still want you to."

The princess leaned in, her face nearly touching his. Goten held his breath as he analyzed what she would do next. "You don't even know," Bulla said, a small smile of victory forming on her face. "Not that you would, I never told you…" she continued mysteriously. The older man gulped where he stood.

"Know what?" Goten asked before his better judgment could tell him not to.

Her eyes grew coquettish. She had him right where she wanted him. "What I think about in the shower," Bulla led, inching her hand closer to his inner thigh. "When I touch myself," her voice became low and amorous.

His face whitened. "When…you…"

Bulla couldn't help but giggle; he looked so nervous when he said that. "Touch myself," she whispered as her nose nearly grazed him. Smirking, the heiress tapped her digits in place on his thigh. "With my fingers," Bulla added, quieter than before.

Inhaling sharply, Goten felt his mouth go dry.

She placed her lips near his left ear, faking confidence as best she could. "You know what I think about?" Bulla asked once more. Not waiting for his answer, she pressed on. " Your fingers, touching me there, instead," the princess said, taking his palm in hers.

"Bulla," Goten faltered, his voice as shaky as his hand.

She guided him to her, the heiress' free hand gripping his collar with all the strength she possessed. Before Goten could protest, their mouths reunited with Bulla showcasing her natural talent. Given their extensive practicing the night before, he shouldn't have been surprised. The Son man was aware the genius attached to him was a fast learner, but even he was astonished by her boldness.

As she distracted the other demi-Saiyan with her newfound prowess, Bulla attempted to bring the hand entwined in hers towards another part of her body. She opened her thighs more, her mini-skirt not leaving much to the imagination. The heiress directed him in between her legs where the coolness of the night had not yet made its way to. She heard him gasp when the warmth of her started to pulsate, inches from her maidenhood.

"It's okay, Goten," she insisted in a quiet whisper. "I want you to."

"Bulla, no."

He used extra force, all he had within him, to pull himself away from her. Despite his best attempt, Goten's hand couldn't stop trembling. "Are you nuts?" he said, the sweat on his back dripping down along with his remorse. "What if someone saw?"

"I don't care about that, Goten," she huffed, "whatever it takes to get you to finally realize that I want you. I'm ready for this."

"You don't realize what you're saying."

"But Goten—"

"No, Bulla. I know what I'm talking about."

Bulla dug in her heels at the rejection, fuming in place.

"Why does everyone else feel like they get to tell me when I'm ready for things?" she lamented, throwing her hands up. "My dad, my brother, now you !" the heiress complained. She unleashed a frustrated groan. "I thought you of all people would understand! And you're over here acting like you know better than me."

"Like it or not, Bulla," Goten scolded, "I do have a bit more expertise in this area."

"Believe me, I know," she spat, the hurt not remotely hidden in her tone. Her eyes dashed towards the ground. "I know," Bulla added sadly.

Goten instantly regretted how he phrased his previous comment. "Bulla," he began but she cut him off.

She pivoted towards the staircase's edge, the view from the grand hallway just as spectacular as the terrace below. Facing away from him, it was easier to speak her mind.

"Do you know how hard it was for me?" Bulla said, leaning over the rail. She chuckled bitterly. "Having to overhear conversations between you and my brother; you guys swapping stories about hookups. Or overhear whenever you got back with an ex," her eyes misted as she spoke.

"I—"

Bulla didn't let him finish.

"Pretending I wasn't crying in my room whenever you'd come and say hi. Acting like that stuff never bothered me," Bulla continued. Her head dipped further down. "But it did," she revealed, "and the worst part was you never picked up on it."

"Bulla," he repeated, "you were…"

His heart sank at the woman in front of him. He could say with full confidence he never thought of her until this past year in that regard, but knowing she desired to be seen, even at that young age, still tore at his chest.

"You were not an option for me."

It was the truth, yes, but Goten saw the pain his words inflicted upon the princess. No matter how appropriate he had been with her all those years ago, it didn't change how she felt.

She trembled, attempting to remain strong, but the subtle quiver of her bottom lip indicated otherwise.

"You were the only option for me, Goten."

His mouth parted as she said those words. He knew the torch she held for him burned brightly. It had done so ever since she was in her youth. To him, it was almost a right of passage, the younger sister setting her sights on the older brother's best friend. Goten's mind drifted to that same memory he had earlier in the day of how desperately her newborn self reached for him. In some way, Bulla had always sought him out. Again, he thought this was mere brotherly love, but the cadence of her tone, the stone-faced determination she exuded…it all indicated just how truthful that statement was.

And just how wrong Goten was about her feelings for him.

"I—"

He grew silent once more. "I had no idea you felt that strongly," Goten whispered.

Releasing herself from the railing, Bulla kept her eyes downwards. "Guess now you do," she continued with a firmer tone. Her body breezed forward, grabbing her bags and passing the still stunned older Saiyan.

"Bulla—"

"We're overdue for a spar," Bulla added flatly. The bluette didn't even crane her head back as she started to canter down the hall. "Don't forget Son Ten," she said, but without the usual playfulness whenever she called him that. "You still owe me. I don't want to lose any progress."

The terser timbre saddened Goten, though he understood it. He tried to be pragmatic in his reply.

"Right," he nodded. Goten took a deep breath to regain himself. Unsure what the right solution was, he decided to let Bulla have some time to cool down. "Give me a couple days, Bulla."

By the way she paused her ardent stride, he could tell that was not the path he should have taken.

"No," she called back, turning her head before she reached the royal wing. "Tomorrow afternoon. We can use one of the empty parts of the barracks. Don't even think of skipping."

The proud princess didn't wait for his response when she vanished through the giant doors, closing them with great force. Goten gulped.

Hell hath no fury like a Saiyan woman scorned.

Chapter 12 and we've delveeeeeed into some interesting situations. Poor Trunks! Poor Goten! Poor Bulla! What shall become of our heroes?

Chapter 13: Bulla's frustration reaches a boiling point and takes it out on Goten (but where there's smoke, there's fire) Trunks tries to bury his own frustrations in training, more insight into the research the Souljins and the Earthlings are conducting as well as peek in on Vegeta learning about Souljin courtly intrigue.

For always, thank you dear readers!

-SonChan