Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Live Well ❯ The Honeymoon ( Chapter 3 )

Live Well

Chapter Three: The Honeymoon

Vegeta somehow kept his eyelid from tweaking every time that the little princess even so much as looked his way. As the night approached, he began to dread every little nod and bow. The right prayers had been made, the right sacrifices to the gods had been done, and their marriage licenses had been signed. All that was left was breaking her into his bed. The thought nauseated him. At twenty, he was in the prime of his life, and his libido was telling him about all of the lovely maids he could leave bastard children in, but the little girl in the wedding gown beside him was not on his list of something he would like to conquest. He thanked anyone - any god that he could think of that they wouldn't have to check for her blood on the sheets. That had been taken care of in the second ceremony.

He should have felt pride after remembering tearing apart her hymen, and he did, but it was quickly overshadowed by the strange change that had come over his - he sneered - wife. While she had been in the fountain, it had been his duty to watch over her prayers, and he had done so with little thought. The girl had been frightened when she had been lowered inside - of that he was certain - but a few minutes after she had immersed herself within the regeneration fluid, her eyes began to morph. Soft dark eyes had become pinched, and hardened, leaving Vegeta with the impression that something was not quite right with his bride.

Kakarotto had emerged poised and ready, dispelling the fluid from her lungs with the ease of a foot soldier, and the determination to match. He supposed he should have been proud that his first wife was not running away from her duties, but instead he felt something akin to suspicion. The girl on his arm was not the one that he had threatened to sell to the guards only a few hours ago. Whatever had happened between the moments between entering and exiting the fountain had created a stranger.

He had been preparing himself in dealing with a little girl when the time to prove their nuptial status came, however, it seemed that he would have to face a warrior on the battlefield, and his shoulders rankled awfully at the thought of having to wrestle with the skinny tart. Nothing about her aroused him even, and that was the worst part of the deal. Her face was much too plain, and, despite having hoped that the gowns were just covering her up, her naked form was flat and unappealing, making Vegeta wonder if she would ever fill out.

Still he had to fulfill his family's expectations no matter how uninterested he was in his little wife. Yet he still figured it was a waste of time - no matter how much his wife seemed to have changed in a few minutes. With some effort, he drew his mind away from the thoughts of what the night would bring, and turned to a cousin when he approached.

“Brolli,” he murmured politely, and nodded his head - acceptable acknowledgement for his eccentric brethren. At the last moment, he recalled he needed to introduce him to his new wife as was proper, and gestured to her, “Kakarotto, this is my cousin, Brolli. Brolli, this is my wife, the Princess Consort Kakarotto.” He looked at her briefly, finding that her eyes were latched intently onto the young man before them, and pressed his lips to her hand for appearances - and to make sure that she would remember that she was married now.

Kakarotto's hand tightened on his slightly before giving Brolli a small curtsy, “What a pleasure.”

“The honor is mine,” Brolli said when she stood up straight, and bowed deeply to her. The smile on her lips was surprisingly gentle, and Vegeta stiffened when he saw it directed at the boy of fifteen years. He would have gripped her shoulder, and yanked her close if she hadn't suddenly looked up at him with the same smile - he merely lifted his chin a bit higher in response, revealing a hint of his gratification that it was his wife with such a grin.

When Brolli went back to his father and betrothed, Vegeta's hand roamed from where it had been resting on her shoulder to her hip, giving her a fleeting rub. The corner of her lips turned downward for a moment as she looked up at him, and he grimaced when he saw that her smile had vanished. In rebellion to her frown, he kept his hand there, grasping her there tighter as he leaned down to murmur for only her ears, “Tonight, I'll do worse things than touch your hip.”

“There are no worse things than you touching me,” she quipped softly, and then put her hand over his as if it belonged there. “Come now, husband, I'm sure there are more people that I must meet with.”

Vegeta's tail would have whipped out and struck her in the face for her audacity, but he kept his appendage wrapped firmly around his waist while it only twitched in rage. He had actually found something appealing about her, and not only did she not grant him the right to see it, touching her like a man to his wife made it disappear completely! His grip intensified, and he almost dragged her along to the next family member.

---

She kept her yawn down, and attempted to not just slump up against the prince - her husband, she would correct herself. Keeping her knees from buckling under the weight of her wedding gown, she could only brace herself against the prince enough that she didn't look like she was about to fall on top of him. Her feet hurt, her body ached, there was sweat coated all over her body, and her dear husband had yet to remove his hand from her waist. When he had done that, it had taken all of her will to not topple over or slap him.

It wasn't really his fault that she was exhausted and that the heavy dress was wearing her thin, but did he really have to add onto her worry and fatigue by touching her so fondly? She was still trying to cope with being married at all, but she found that it was hard to concentrate when she was ready to collapse and sleep on the hardwood floor. Kakarotto almost whimpered when she realized that the floor was - indeed - a wood of some kind. What would her parents think of her as she walked over such wonderful floors? Yet she resisted the urge to go down to her knees to better feel the smooth polished wood, and opted to just keep her eyes away from the wide expanse of the floor she walked upon - through she stifled a wince with every step.

Kakarotto was thinking of ways to tell her husband that she would give him an arm, both legs and both of her eyes if he would let her sit down to rest when she saw the king and queen strode toward them. Somehow, she stood taller despite the restrictions made by her gown, and put a hand on her husband's chest for a while to gain his attention. He glanced down at her, and she nodded over at his approaching parents. Lifting her hand to kiss it, he then bowed to the other royals, prompting her to do the same. She curtsied just a few inches deeper than his bow, and rose after he did so.

“Princess,” the queen intoned, and offered her a black fan that was folded up. When she took it carefully, the queen whipped out her own black fan, spreading it out to reveal the king's red Vegeta House Crest with three pairs of white and gold feathered wings framing it. Kakarotto snapped to abrupt attention when the queen began to gesture and speak with the fan, I will teach how you to fan-speak with Royalty.

Eyes concentrated on her black fan, Kakarotto smoothly opened her own, glancing at it to see her husband's blue House Crest with a golden sand-tornado on either side. She cast a thought to what the Empress' fan might look like, but directed her attention back onto her mother-in-law's fan as she swiftly gestured back, Thank you. That would please me greatly.

`Please you?' The queen's fan became as if a flutter of black wings as she signaled, obviously infuriated, I teach you only so you won't make a fool of me in front of our Empress.

All the same, thank you. It still pleases me, Kakarotto's fan shut with a sharp click, aware that the male Royals were staring at her for shutting her fan before the queen did so. She found out where Vegeta got the twitch of his eye when she saw the queen's eye do the same, but Kakarotto just smiled sweetly, and curtsied again.

The queen finally shut her own fan, and then put the fan in a long, slender pocket at the hip of her gown. She batted her lashes up at the king, and murmured, “Thank you for indulging me, my king.” The man only nodded, and they left the newly wedded couple alone.

Gripping her wrist after Kakarotto found her own fan-pocket to deposit the gift, he whispered fiercely, “I may not know Noblewomen's foolish fan-talk, but I do know an insult when I see one.” When she raised an eyebrow at him, he gritted his fangs in frustration, “Don't play coy with me. You cannot end a fan-conversation if someone you're talking to is of higher station. The only one other than my mother that's of higher station than you is the Empress, bless her.”

“Insult? Lord Husband, I was thanking her.” Yes, thanking her for slapping me at least fifteen times today for things that I could not have been prepared for - even had I been a true Noblewoman. It's about time she got a smacking. She listened to him muttering nothing under his breath before they went on their way again to greet and meet with the rest of his family.

Kakarotto counted down the hours in her head as she staggered beside her husband, desperately keeping her back and legs level. When night came, she knew that she would not mind anything dirty that her husband might do to her - just as long as he let her lay down! She absently heard the orchestra switching into a new song, and swallowed hard when she heard her husband, “This is a good song. Shall we dance?”

She stared at him as if he was mad, and he smirked before he pulled her onto the dance floor. The new princess managed to go into synch with him for a few steps, her heart beating at her ribcage as she strived to keep up with him and the fast pace of the song. It helped that he did most of the moving, sometimes lifting her up into the air to twirl and twist her and then dipping her nearly to the floor, but her blood pounding through her veins kept her hot, and she began to sweat buckets, panting quickly. After one such dip, everything went dark.

---

“Shit,” Vegeta guided her carefully down to the floor, groaning at the incompetence of all Noblewomen - whether wedded into Royalty or not. He whipped out her fan after finding it, and began to fan at her neck and face while the guests swirled around them in curiosity. When his parents arrived, he lifted the princess up into his arms, and nodded to them.

“About time,” he heard his mother say, and he raised an eyebrow at that mentioning. Looking at his father, Vegeta could see that he was rather used to princesses fainting for no good reason. His mother placed a hand on his shoulder, and murmured soothingly, “My Prince, I think that it would do the Princess Consort well if you would move her to her bed. The day has been long for her.” Hearing that, Vegeta held back a sneer, but felt his eye convulse in displeasure. She frowned, “The day has been long. Now put her to bed. With some rest, I'm sure she'll be in fine form for later.”

He found himself moving under his mother's stare, and quickly went toward the exit, saying to inquiring allies and family that the Princess Consort was merely tired. His mind exploded with ire however, and was a hairpin away from tossing her out of a stained glass window. To hell with this skinny thing! I'm a man, and I want a woman!

“If you do not do your duties as the prince, Vegeta, then I will stick it in myself!”

He sniffed upon recalling his mother's words, biting his tongue as he walked down the hallway. If he knew his mother well enough, that had not been an idle threat. Perhaps, he could find himself a scullery maid or even one of his sweat bath slaves to amuse himself with after he did his deed. That brought up the realization that maybe he would be unable to get himself excited enough for the action however, and wondered whether any of the maids had stayed behind in her suite long enough for him to enjoy them. Curling up his lip, Vegeta began to snap at slaves and maids that he saw on the way, telling them to run ahead and prepare the princess suite for their arrival.

Attempting to look for reasons to delay his arrival, Vegeta began to slow his steps down, taking in the sights of a hall that he had never frequented in his lifetime. He knew that his mother had been the Princess Consort when he had been born - a striking difference to his father whom had been conceived when the Empress had been Queen - but he didn't remember this place at all. Only a few months after his birth, his father had ascended to the kingship, and thus his mother had been moved to the Queen's Wing.

Despite never remembering traversing through these halls, it was easy enough to navigate through them since the Princess' Wing was a mirror image of the Prince's Wing - the same as the Queen's Wing was to the King's Wing. The only exception was that the wings of the female counterpart were each half a meter smaller in measurements than their male's wings. He couldn't see the difference in size easily, but sometimes when he loped up a flight of stairs, he could see it better. It was all very precise and much more delicate appearing. He supposed that was to represent the princess' femininity, but, looking down on her, his princess didn't seem very feminine at all.

He fought back the curl of his lip before he saw the little smile that had come over her features in her slumber. Vegeta sighed in frustration that the smile would be gone when she awoke, and muttered under his breath about the tricky little bitch. He would be glad to have a wife that would smile at him when she was conscious - one that would not refuse him the beautiful sight of a simple grin for him.

Clutching her body tighter to his own at the thought, he stiffened when he saw the smile leave her face again, resulting into a more pained expression. His grip loosened immediately, wishing back that smile he had seen for only a few minutes, but his wish went unanswered for her face merely relaxed into a more neutral state, and the smile didn't return. Vegeta even stopped walking; waiting for even the tiny twitch upward of her lips, but he saw nothing.

Damning himself for a fool when he realized what he was doing, Vegeta strode into the Princess Suite quickly, wanting to dump her aside, and grab any maids or slaves that had lingered behind for a show. To his absolute horror, the suite was empty but for himself, his wife, and the enormous bed where he had first met her. With a scowl, he dropped her onto the bedding, and watched her body bounce once before she went still. Groaning, she writhed for a moment on top of the bed, but then went still again.

Lips twisting, he considered arousing her from her sleep, but figured that it would be better if he stripped her of the wedding gown before she woke up to make a fuss about the whole deal. He searched quickly and efficiently for the hooks, clasps, ties, and zippers that held her overcoat and petticoats onto her small frame, and then, as custom dictated, he carefully undressed the sleeping girl, hanging up every piece of her gown as it came off. He brought them into the walk-in closet, and hung it up in the very back of the room so that the maids would see it, and wash it promptly for their anniversary the following year.

Surely, that would be their only anniversary, but it was always good to show nice appearances. He fingered the black petticoats, smiling when the coarse lace brought him back to playing in his mother's skirts as a boy. Ducking in and out of the petticoats while she walked, and then hiding just under the overcoat while she disposed of would-be assassins were simple joys that were no longer available to him as a man. He dropped to his knees to regain the shorter stature of a boy, and buried his face into the thick lace with a grin, recalling all of the incidences where she allowed him to take a nap with her or on her lap so that he could always feel that comforting fabric. Vegeta had often fallen asleep to the sound of her and Grandmother's voices, and the flap of fans.

Thinking of fans conjured the image of Kakarotto being rude to his dear, sweet mother. Vegeta could only dimly remember being told that he had been betrothed. One of his mother's duties had been to find him several prospective wives for when he grew older. Her first choice had been this dainty little thing. He hardly remembered anything about her as a tiny baby, and all that he could remember was that her mane of hair had not yet grown in completely, so she had been nearly indistinguishable from a clod of black dust under his bed. In fact, he remembered calling her just that, and then hearing the gentle laughter of his mother.

His hands, so much larger than they had been as a boy, drifted up and down the heavy skirts, almost purring in delight from the memories that the movements created and the feel. This girl was a replacement for the role that his mother had taken in his life, but he could barely endure the thought of trading in his gorgeous, composed, experienced mother for this young girl. He knew that his reasoning was almost blasphemy, but he could not help but love the woman that had raised and nurtured him into one of the greatest Vegetas that had ever been. Vegeta needed that sense of being adored and loved by such a prosperous woman - how could he ever think of letting her go?

He made the mistake of smelling the lace of the petticoats, and received a lungful of his wife's scent instead of the sweet intoxication of his mother. The odor itself had nothing wrong with it, but it just had not been what he had wanted. Worse, it reminded him of what he had to do when the girl awoke. Forcing away the scent of rare flowers, he tried to summon the sweet scent of rare dark woods, and their ashes with that soft hint of the northern desert sands, and nearly purred.

She would always comfort him, even when she eventually became the empress in Grandmother's place, and he was king. Her duties would take her far away from him - farther than she had ever been before, and all he would have was the woman that his mother had chosen to rule beside him, yet he just wanted her at his side. He laughed softly to himself, If my father and grandfather could hear where my thoughts are going now, they would tear me apart … Why does this have to be so hard? I know that I'm being foolish. Mother will never be mine … That smile had been Mother's smile though, but she won't let me see it for longer than a moment! Looking up, he carefully loosened his sore hands from the dark lace of the petticoats, absently hoping that he hadn't ripped anything, and then got back up with stiff knees to return to his wife's sleeping chambers.

He leaned against the doorframe of the closet to watch her sleep, wondering if he should tuck her in or wake her up to get the whole deal over and done. Tapping his chin, Vegeta looked her up and down, noting that she was shivering from being overheated, and that her nipples were at a sharp point. He forced out a breath of air, and closed his eyes before he rubbed his temples, figuring it would be a lot easier if she had something about her that was even faintly arousing.

Glancing back into the walk-in closet, he looked at the gowns that the seamstresses had been working on non-stop all day, and then at the wedding gown in the far back of the closet. This room had been empty ever since his mother had been promoted to the Queen Consort, but now it was filled to the brim with every gown that was imaginable for a young, stylish princess. Walking back inside, he searched for a gown among all of the black petticoats - a proper color and style for Royal Consorts - corsets, and bodices that might give her small frame some curve. Instead he had walked four steps in before he was fingering the lace of petticoats again, remembering his smaller hands doing the same in his mother's closet. He swallowed nothing, his throat dry, as the memory of stealing a petticoat suddenly invaded his mind, and taking it back to his rooms. He had just discovered carnal desires, and all of the pleasure that had gone along with it. At first, he had only taken the white petticoats of Noblewomen, but he found himself most excited when he closed his eyes, and saw black, so he would take petticoats from her closet whenever her back was turned. As he had become older, to make it even more real, he would dress maids and slaves into the rich gowns, and take them with the rich lace clutched tightly in his fists.

Biting his inner cheek, he grabbed a heavily laced outer petticoat from the hooks, and brought it out to dress Kakarotto inside of it. He thanked the gods that it fit her right, knowing that even some of the petticoats worn on top of other petticoats would only fit a woman after their waist had been squished into a corset. Sighing in relief, he petted the dark lace before he got up to retrieve a bodice that was black in color to clothe her torso in. About half way up, he discovered that he could not button any more for this particular bodice apparently needed a corset under it, however, Vegeta saw that the bodice had pushed her small breasts up enough to display a flair of appeal, and thus, he kept the clothing on her. Swallowing hard at his audacity, he sat back to wait for his wife to wake up, and tenderly stroked the lace.

He saw his downfall when she smiled in her sleep, and Vegeta swallowed nothing as he leaned over her, having every intention to awaken her for their wedding night, but paused as his lips hovered over her ear, preparing to whisper. For a bare moment, he closed his eyes, and smelled the hot desert sands as he continued to pet and feel the rich lace, hearing a sweet voice call for him across the plains. Hesitating as his thoughts led him through forbidden territory again, he looked up at the sleeping face of his wife before he reached for the nightstand to turn out the light.

---

Kakarotto shivered, and curled up into a ball on the bed before she realized that she was awake. Clutching the sheets to herself tighter, she blinked slowly up at the window that revealed the first rising sun, which was green. She yawned and sat up, feeling warm and slick with sweat from the previous night.

Coming to attention, she suddenly couldn't remember returning to her suite for rest. The last thing that she could clearly remember was when the prince had pulled her into a dance at the ball. Had she started to drink alcohol after that? Yet she hadn't been so hot as to try drinking any wine at all - for one thing, it wasn't legal for her yet, and for another, she had a responsibility not to poison any offspring that her husband would …

Her jaw dropped, and she covered her mouth in shock, If I'm here, and it's morning now … I missed the wedding night! The prince must be furious! She covered her face in shame, Oh, and the king and queen …! I can't believe that I missed something so important! Chewing her lip, Kakarotto glanced around the room only to see a slave sitting at the foot of her bed. She sat up straighter, wincing at an odd ache between her legs, and then said, “Is the sweat bath prepared?”

“Yes, my princess. The prince just went inside,” the female slave said, her eyes on the floor.

Fingering the edge of her blanket before she flung it off, Kakarotto rose to her feet, but then she faltered when she felt more than sweat between her legs. She looked down at herself, and her ears became dark red when she spied the crimson marks over her breasts, which were peaking out of a small black bodice obscenely. The dark purple petticoat wasn't easy to explain either, and she could feel something crusty on her inner thighs. Looking over into the mirror, she undid the bodice, and pulled off the petticoat only to have her cheeks flame in abject horror, the realization hitting her hard. Oh, Mama … I either fainted, or drank myself silly last night, and forgot everything! The prince must really think that I'm used to this sort of thing if I coupled with him while intoxicated …

Nevertheless, she straightened her stature, and marched straight to her sweat bath, ignoring the giggle here and there from a slave as she entered. She sat across from him, absently noting the tired, haunted look in his eyes, and swallowed hard. When she heard another giggle from a slave when they scraped the sweat from between her legs, she snatched away a golden ladle, and brandished it at the giggling woman's nose, “Out! All of you!” Astonished, the group of slaves only stared at her, some looking at the prince for directions, but he only stared at Kakarotto patiently. She bared her little fangs, about to snap again before they got the picture, and ran out, the door swinging behind them before one of them had the sense to shut the door before cold air came in.

Attempting to unwind, Kakarotto settled back onto the bench, and then scraped herself clean, ignoring the raise of his brow at her actions. She was scraping sweat from her stomach when she realized that her husband wasn't washing himself, and was still looking at her. Clearing her throat, she sat up straighter, and then glanced down at her breasts which still had those strange red marks all over them. She pursed her lips before she asked, “Was I drunk last night?”

He blinked once before he threw his head back, and laughed, his dark voice echoing in the steaming sweat bath as she gaped at him. The prince slumped forward, his elbows resting on his knees while he chuckled out the last few laughs, and his black eyes glittered in bleak mirth. He said hoarsely, “No, you weren't drunk. I just couldn't bare to touch you while you were awake.” Gazing up at her, his lips twisted into a disturbing grin, “You make such cute little noises.”

Taking a deep breath, she proceeded to pay no heed to him, but all the while, her heart trembled, unable to believe what he had said, He just went and … took me in my sleep? What kind of sick bastard does that!? She frowned at him, but then sighed, At least he did me a favor. I didn't want to couple with him anyway. Maybe he'll be kind again, and always claim me like that. It … seemed to please him at least, and that's what I'm supposed to do as a wife, right? The prince continued to sit there, tapping his foot patiently as if waiting for something, and she took the time to study his brow, wondering why he appeared so nervous, and edgy.

“Aren't you going to call them back in?”

Kakarotto gasped, slightly startled before she shook her head, “I don't want to listen to them giggling about what they think happened last night.” When he cocked his head to the side in confusion, she elaborated, “What happened last night was not a wedding night since you weren't doing it with me. You were doing it with my body.”

His lips spiraled into a nasty shape, and he barked out hostilely, “I wasn't even claiming your body. I was picturing someone else last night.” She became cold as he gritted his fangs, “You were too disgusting to even look at. I kept my eyes closed and kept in mind the woman I truly want as my bride!”

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If you don't know what Vegeta was up to that night, you deserve to be shot … Well, you do if you don't know and don't review. XP

Ah, being a blatant review-whore is fun.

Oh, yeah, and for those that were wondering, my name on deviantArt is Alastair918.

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