Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Anaugust Gold ❯ 10 ( Chapter 10 )

Vejata sat up abruptly, and was immediately hit by an onslaught of painful dizziness. As she became more alert, the dizziness abated. She dragged herself to her feet, rubbing the last of the confusion from her eyes, and tried to make sense of the scene before her.

 

There was a dragon—a towering dragon, quite different from the one she'd seen on Namek, but if the small glowing spheres beneath it were any indication, this one came from Earth's dragon balls. Then all she would have to do would be to shout her wish at it, right?—for unlike on Namek, no Namekian was present with the trio to chant their wish in the Namekian tongue; perhaps this dragon was different. She'd have to do it before the others could get in all their wishes—how many wishes were there? Was it the same as before—three? Her head pounded as she waded through the questions, but as she stepped forward to shout out something—anything to stop them from bringing back Goku, from saving Vegeta—

 

Strong green arms wrapped around her, lifting her off her feet. "What do you think you're doing?" Piccolo hissed in her ear.

 

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Vejata breathed, watching carefully as Trunks and Bulma seemed to discuss something in the distance.

 

"A friend told me you'd be coming back," he rumbled threateningly, tightening his grip on her although she did not struggle. "And what you did to him. See," he leaned his head forward so that he could look her in the eye. "Around here I'm trusted to watch over my allies." Vejata felt that his words were supposed to sting, but they didn't—either because she felt no guilt in the first place, or because her mind was still so muddled; perhaps both. "I advise you not try anything dangerous." He dropped her back to the ground and stood back, crossing his arms and turning his attention to the dragon before them.

 

"Shenlong!" Bulma shouted up to it, "We want to bring Vegeta, who's stranded on a planet called New Vegeta, back to this spot on Earth!"

 

"It shall be done," Shenlong's eyes glowed, and as they dimmed again, Vegeta flashed into being beside his son. "There. Your wish is granted. What is your second wish?"

 

"V-Vegeta!" Bulma flung her arms around him.

 

"Dad, Vejata killed Son!" Trunks blurted. "He told us—"

 

"I know, boy," Vegeta muttered, planting one hand atop his son's head and resting the other over Bulma's shoulder. "He told me, too." His gaze met Vejata's, and an unrestrained growl burst from his throat. "You." Power erupting from him, he charged the woman, slamming his elbow into her sternum and forcing her to the ground. "You made your choice!" he screamed down at her. "Fight me and meet your fate!" he snarled, pressing his boot against her as his voice dropped to dangerous quiet. "For murdering Kakarotto, you will find no mercy."

 

He lifted his foot from Vejata, allowing her to stand. "Very well," she frowned, but seemed to remember something and burst into a mad grin before she powered up. She was shaking, and the prince could not tell if she was so fearful of death that her mind could handle it no longer, or if she had something up her sleeve and the shaking was her bottled laughter; he was inclined to believe the former, and felt this was affirmed when she settled at nearly the same strength as she'd had the last time he'd seen her power up to her fullest. "Let's go."

 

 

...

 

 

Vegeta pulled his arm back and landed another punch across Vejata's face, causing her to tumble gracelessly across the ground. She dug herself back up, and Vegeta realized that if there was one area in which her prowess matched his, it was her persistence; she ought have crumbled long ago—agonizingly long minutes ago—but, blood creeping from the corners of her mouth and more caking against her abraded back, scraped and scratched from her being driven against the dirt so many times, she stood time and time again.

 

She flung a ki blast at Vegeta, but he sidestepped it and followed through with a swinging kick to her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She wheezed and clutched at her chest, eying Vegeta and waiting for him to make his next move while she was vulnerable. Instead, he knit his brows and peeled his gloves from his hands, waiting. When Vejata had recovered, he charged at her again, locking hands with her as he pressed his weight against her, and she against him. His power shot up, and he flung her into the air, firing a ki blast at her as she fell, and then another, until her shoulder slammed into the ground.

 

Again, Vejata pulled herself up, though more slowly than any of the times before. She favored one leg, and sent the prince a weighty gaze, breathing heavily. A flicker of a smirk played across her features, but it disappeared beneath a wince of pain as she made an attempt to step forward. Vegeta noted the heavy flow of blood from one side of the leg she left free of her weight, and her apparent dizziness from losing so much so fast. With one gloveless hand, he snatched her shoulder, and with the other punched her in the gut, simultaneously releasing her to rise briefly through the air before hitting the ground again. She rested against her elbows, but struggled to stand this time, and the gold filtered away from her hair as it returned to its normal ebony.

 

Vejata finally made it to her feet, but was immediately struck back down by the prince, this time with a blow to the head. She stumbled to one side and collapsed against her hip, and reached up to her head to note with alarm its bleeding—almost as profuse as that of her leg. The queen could not stand this time—no—and so remained on her side, gritting her teeth, waiting—for this was the end; life was leaving her, too fast. With effort, she flipped onto her back to look up at Vegeta, who smirked over her.

 

Hands shaking with the pain of it, she reached up carefully to her neck, pulling something from around it—the medallion. With what her now deathly weak arm could manage, she grasped it and lay it as close to Vegeta as she could, beside his right boot. "Congratulations," she smirked wryly, and then coughed, blood gurgling from her mouth and creeping down her cheek until it pooled in her ear, "King Vegeta."

 

Her last breaths were fear and loathing, were sorrow and exhilaration; were, finally, disgust and hate as she felt her muscles relax and the rage that had pumped through her veins pool beneath her. As she plummeted into the dark of death, she heard the medallion snap beneath Vegeta's foot—and with it, herself.