Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Live Well ❯ Brother ( Chapter 5 )

Live Well

Chapter Five: Brother

Kakarotto sighed when the contraption was finally closed shut, and was astonished to find that the new overcoat wasn't uncomfortable at all. Standing so that she could view the profile of her body, she smiled slightly when she saw that her breasts stood out more in the gown. She grinned at the seamstress behind her before placing her hands on her more apparent hips. She inspected the front again, making sure that the neckline was not too low for her age, and then stroked the lace at the bottom of her neck. It barely covered the new red marks her husband had left on her shoulders and chest. The night before last had seen him voraciously attacking her neck and breasts with his mouth, and the markings had yet to fade.

When she had awoken that current morning, she found herself wearing the bodice again, but with several more black petticoats on, and new marks on her chest. She had laid there feeling oddly satisfied and marvelous before she realized he had come for a visit. After she had risen and bathed in the steam room, she had called up several seamstresses to adjust corsets and bodices so that she could attract him during the day instead of waking up in bed in an uncomfortable bodice. The night was for sleeping as far as she was concerned, and her husband would have to give his attentions to her before she went to sleep - even if it killed her.

She fairly thrummed as she twirled slowly in a circle, trying not to topple over in the weighty gown, and then slightly tinged red when she felt the lace shift over her still sensitive breasts. Either he had been overly excited or the wear on her young breasts was finally being felt. Since he had continued his strange escapades in the dead of night, she had been left to wonder if it was the shape of her breasts that had done it or the multitude of petticoats in which she had awoken. Kakarotto was adorned in a gown fitted for the newly found shape, and six petticoats just to find out.

The new princess sat down when her hairdresser came in, and she ordered her to find a circlet that would best suit her and her gown for the day. The black lace on the light pink overcoat with the dark petticoats was appraised absently, and she smiled when a silver circlet was chosen for the look. Hearing the door creak open, she remembered that she had not called for anyone to come in, so she tensed, and looked into the mirror, which had been positioned so that she could see the doorway. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw that it was her husband.

Willing herself to calm down, she patiently waited for the seamstress and hairdresser to stop fussing over her features before she rose to face him, and stepped closer. Pretending not to take note of his roaming eyes, Kakarotto looked him over in turn, frowning when she saw that a button had popped off. She briefly touched where it had been on his shirt, and looked up at his questioning face, “Did you eat too much?”

His eyes widened before his hands ran up and down his shirtfront only to discover what she had, “Shit, not again.”

Lifting a freshly plucked eyebrow at his statement, she tilted her head up farther to look into his eyes, “What does that mean? Did your shirt buttons pop off yesterday?” She smoothed her hands up and down his chest, checking for any other loose buttons before she drew away when he released a short growl. Sighing, she pulled out her fan to slap his stomach with it, “Why are you eating past your fill? You'll get fat if you keep that up.”

His thick eyebrows almost touched his hairline before he turned away with a huff, “What are you talking about? I ate everything that was sent to me for breakfast this morning, and nothing more. Why are you annoyed when I'm consenting to that stupid diet plan with all of those … egh, vegetables?”

Slipping her fan back into its pocket, she turned to the seamstress, “Make him a new shirt, and someone get me a tail-ring.” She smiled when she watched him become rigid in indignation as the seamstress began to measure him for a new shirt, and Kakarotto took a small silver tail-ring from a maid to put it on her tail herself. After she did this, she sat at her vanity mirror to primp and flatten her eyelashes, not yet trusting the hairdresser with such a task. When she finished with this, she fluttered her lashes at herself in the mirror before she realized that she had accidentally curled her lashes. “Oh, no …”

Kakarotto nearly jumped to the ceiling when her husband was abruptly in the mirror, looking in, and frowning as he jeered at her, “What? Did you lose a button too? You haven't even eaten yet.” Scowling softly, his eyes latched with hers in the glass before he blinked, and his sneer hardened, “Your eyes look fine. Now stop that or I'll poke one out for you.” Pouting slightly at him, she set the eyelash iron aside, and looked at her eyelashes again before she figured that there was really no helping it for the time being. Her husband's hand touched her side then, and she went still as he rubbed up and down the black lace that was lying over the pink overcoat, “My mother wanted to speak with you after you ate. You should hurry down, and get your fill so you can talk to her, and still have time for prepping the banquet.”

Kakarotto blinked slowly, looking at him in the mirror, bare-chested, and speaking with a darkened, low voice. Making an effort at a smile though she felt vaguely ill, she touched his hand, “What are you going to do today?”

He jerked back, staring at the back of her head as if she wasn't able to see him do so in the mirror, and then stood up straight so that his face and features were no longer visible in the glass. The prince walked toward her bed to sit down, “I'll be wondering if you're going to starve me through lunch again, and whether or not I should even eat the food if you're going to complain about me eating everything.”

Shaking her head before he had even finished, she elaborated, “If you get full, I want you to stop eating. You won't be doing yourself or your shirts any good that way.” With him sitting down on her bed, she could view his face, and she saw when his brow twisted into befuddlement. Kakarotto stood to face him, and grinned when he began to look more sour than usual, “Besides, we can't have a fat prince now, can we?”

The prince fidgeted on her bed before he stood up, “Of course not, and you shouldn't dawdle in here any longer if you intend to meet with my mother. She won't stand for waiting on any of my wives.” Hearing this, she turned to a slave, and waved her over, signaling for her to strip the gown. While more slaves came closer to aid the first in getting the dress off, her husband fumed, “What are you doing? I just told you that she doesn't want to wait for you to play dress-up!”

“I'm sure that she doesn't want to see me wearing such raunchy attire either, my lord,” she said, lightly shivering when the cool air hit the bare skin of her torso. As Kakarotto reviewed the Royal Robes, her husband abruptly turned to her walk-in closet, digging through the petticoats and overdresses as if searching. Finally, he seemed to have found what he had been searching for, and came back with ten petticoats, and a black overcoat with green lace. He laid it onto the bed before he took the recently finished shirt from the seamstress to pull it on. Seemingly sensing his request, the slaves and maids began to smooth out the heavy skirts, and searched the closet for the right corset to squeeze her into for the gown. Pressing her lips tightly together as he stood beside her, she watched him straighten his new blue shirt. Her husband was already done adorning his clothes, and Kakarotto had a good ten minutes left until she could even think about leaving the room.

“Princess,” she looked over her shoulder at him, seeing as the slaves were still putting on her corset, “next time that you nitpick about wearing something indecent, I'll find something heavier for you.” As she glowered at him through the slaves' tugs to cinch her waist more, the prince leaned in closer with a wider grin, “Besides, there are a great many more gowns more `indecent' than that sweet black and pink dress.” Before he left, she watched him stop at her bed to stroke the lace of the gown he has chosen for her. She held her breath, almost in disbelief as his lips curled into a faint smile before he turned to the door and left.

---

Sighing, Vegeta set down his glass of whiskey, and rubbed his forehead as he looked over the paperwork in front of him. Come lunchtime, a snack had been sent up to him, and he had eaten it all ravenously, still finding himself hungering for more, so he had sent the slaves who had brought it to him to get more - much to his chagrin and their shock. It was well known around the palace about his lack of want for food. The cause, of course, was a well-kept secret for then people could try to do all sorts of things to his meals. His growth problem was known only to himself, his doctors, and the rest of the Royal Family.

When the slaves had returned, he sent one down for a bottle of whiskey, having finally remembered that, in his state of marriage, it was legal for him to indulge. He had poured only one glass, and was still cradling the single glass hours later as he worked. While he knew that he wanted to drink straight from the bottle with no pause, Vegeta was sensible enough to recognize that he shouldn't attempt such a thing while he was at work. Besides, the beverage had a particularly foul taste that he could only handle when he felt a headache coming on.

He had been told a few hours before that Duke Paragus' treachery had been an isolated incident and that the entire family was not to blame for the actions of the one man who, at the very least, seemed to have gone mad. The new Duke, Brolli - shamed and embarrassed by his father - had declared quite boldly that he would erase all records of his father's name from their House. His fist clenched when he remembered how Duke Brolli had then praised the princess, and, in an even bolder move, declared that he would honor her quick wit and outstanding grace with a feast.

When he would finally find her eunuch guard, he would worry less about another male siring a child with her. Vegeta knew that she would not be around much longer after birthing a child, but he would not stand the dishonor of having a wife that carried another male's brat. He would never be able to live that one down - even if she was just his first wife.

Grimacing, he took a longer draught from his whiskey glass than he had initially intended, and coughed hard after he had finished while hitting his chest. Sighing, he put the glass farther away from himself, and looked up at the doorway when it opened. His eyes widened, clasping the top of his desk before relaxing, as his mother treaded in. She nodded to him before she shut the door. Vegeta sat up straighter, and wished that he had not ordered for whiskey - no matter much how it seemed to help his aching head. The queen sat across from him, and he wondered if this was the right time to tell her of the things he had been doing to his new wife while she had slept.

“What are you drinking?” She whipped out a fan - it was not the fan made of beautiful, heavy wood that his grandmother had bought for her on his parents' wedding day, but something much lighter and covered in little pink pearls - and pointed at the glass with it.

The pink pearls made him remember the `scandalous' dress his wife had been wearing that morning, and he shook his head to clear himself, “Just some whiskey.” When she raised an eyebrow at him, he sighed, and smiled slightly, “That's just my first glass, and I poured it over two hours ago.” Her warm smile made him clear his throat, and he looked away, “Did you need to speak with me, Mother?”

“Are you busy right now?” She looked pointedly at the maps and charts in front of him, and he blinked down at them for a moment before he realized that he had been brooding for about a half hour before she had come in. Sighing, he shook his head, watching as she frowned slightly, “The seamstress told me that your wife ordered some gowns today.”

Taking a deep breath, he nodded, “She did. I think they were in the middle of altering some gowns too, and she had them make me a new shirt when the one I was wearing busted.” He paused before he frowned, “And then she yelled at me for eating all of my breakfast. You would have broken my back if I hadn't. She's not making any sense to me at all!”

She smiled consolingly, and said, “Young girls do silly little things like that all the time. Just ignore them. Of course, that's not to say that we don't continue to do silly little things like that for our husbands as we grow older.”

A grin found its way onto his face, “You're not old, Mother. You're still beautiful.” He bit his tongue when he let that slip, seeing her face melt into stillness, “I …” The woman managed a weak smile before she glanced at the glass of whiskey as if that explained everything, but he shook his head, standing up, “No, it's been my only glass this entire day … Mother, I have to tell you something.” She eyed him carefully, and he realized how threatening appearing he seemed by standing and shouting as he had done, so he slowly sat down, “I've been taking your skirts, and claiming women that I dress inside of them.”

“I know,” she said, and the fist he had hidden under his desk relaxed, all tension in his body draining away. Vegeta sighed, closing his eyes to block her out of his sight, not wishing to see whatever amounts of disgust that she had for him. “It's hard to not notice some of my best skirts missing, Prince.” His chest crumbled, hearing her call him that title seemed to create some sort of barrier between them, and his spirit ached as he listened to her, “You do know that - according to law - I am technically at your mercy in that regard. If you say the words, I am honor bound to follow them.”

“Yet, you are not bound by anything else,” he said, opening his eyes to watch her face twist into confusion. “Mother, are you fond of my father?”

Queen Arba opened her mouth, but then hesitated for so long that he began to clench and unclench his fists in worry until finally she claimed, “Yes, I am fond of him. Prince, what does that have to do with what binds me though?”

“Nothing, apparently,” he said, sitting back into his chair before he grabbed his whiskey glass, and drank the rest of it. Vegeta noticed that his mother was staring at the bottle of whiskey at his elbow, and he put the glass down to fill it with the vile drink, “Would you like some?” She nodded, and he put the glass in front of her. Surprising him, his mother picked up the drink and swallowed it all down as quickly as she could - not even calling for a slave to come and taste-test it for her.

Standing up, she asked, “Would you like anything from me?”

“Yes,” he said, and he stood up to walk around the desk, and take her hand into his. “Can you tell my wife to come look for me? I want to see her.”

Her jaw dropped slightly before she nodded slowly, “Of course. I'll go find her right away.” She dithered a while before she smiled up at him, and curtsied before she left him in his study. Feeling like a huge fool, he went to his chair, slumping into it, and pouring another glass of whiskey before he just stared at the liquid inside, almost not comprehending his actions behind the gesture. Vegeta laughed when he realized what he must have looked like, and went to the door to give the slave the bottle, telling her to bring it back to the kitchens. When he returned to his chair, he sipped from the glass he had kept, wondering how his mother had downed the whole thing without cringing.

Kakarotto arrived alone about twenty minutes later, shutting the door behind herself so softly that he might have not heard her come in if it weren't for the soft swish of her skirts. Vegeta stood up from his chair when he saw her, and held his breath as he took in all of the lace she sported. Yet he kept his hands to himself - or at least on his whiskey glass as he slowly sipped it with a frown.

She stared at him and his glass for a while before she smiled, her gloved hand going over her lips as she laughed! “Why are you sipping whiskey?”

Vegeta went still in shock before he cleared his throat and set the glass down, “It tastes horrible.” She cocked her head to the side before she picked up the glass to sniff it lightly before she put it back down with a little crinkle of her nose, “What?”

“No wonder then that it's `horrible,' it's a bad brand. From which side of the equator did it come?” Sitting in the chair that his mother had just recently occupied, Kakarotto smoothed out her skirts before she made a little show of fluffing all of the lace on her.

“It's from off-world …” His own head tilted to one side as he looked her over, wondering how she was still able to walk in such heavy skirts - and so many of them! She then made another little face at his admonition, “What now?”

“Saiyajin whiskey is better. It's nothing like this weak brand,” she said, idly picking up a sheet of paper from his desk, and looking over it curiously before she frowned. Taking another piece of parchment, she inspected it as well, “You're planning an invasion with five Oozaru teams?”

“No, it will be a team of five,” he explained, “I'll be interviewing a team that one of our Oozaru Force Captains referred to. It's led by a low-classed soldier named Bardock, but he's not a real part of our army - just a Night Watch guard.” Vegeta took back the papers from her, smoothing them out briefly before he began to pack them and the rest of the documents into his folders. “If I think they're good enough, they'll be going to Kanassa-sei for the full moon in a few days.”

She slipped away another piece of paper from him, and he glowered at her audacity. Her eyes were not on him however, but on the paper, and they widened in surprise, “What are you doing here? These people are just starving.”

“They're rioters, and they need to be punished appropriately,” he elaborated, snatching away the document, and scowled further at her offended appearance. “These planets are under my control now, and it's my duty to make them know that I will not brook such nonsense from my people.”

“That's why I'm objecting! It's our people that are starving there,” his eyes twitched in befuddlement, his hand pausing from putting the parchment back into its designated folder. “There are Saiyajin living on Wanopuleni-sei that can't feed themselves anymore because of the ridiculously high price of food, and there's a shortage. No Saiyajin in their right mind would ever continue to live there, but now they're so poor from just trying to eat that they can't afford any transports for off world. My lord, don't do this to them.”

Opening his mouth, he then shut it with a sharp snap, and opened the document to look over the particulars more closely, and wondering why he had not seen it before, chewing his tongue, “Shit … I can't lower the prices abruptly though. The merchants there need to make a living too, but if I just leave them as they are, my people will starve and … Shit!” After punching his desktop, he inhaled and exhaled as slowly as his quivering chest would allow him before he began to empty his folders again, and searched for a way to go around and fix his mistakes. I can't start my real career by killing off my own kind. I need to retract those orders to find a team of mercenaries, and then … by the gods, how do I feed that many starving Saiyajin? Wanopuleni-sei is an industrial planet, so I can't send in missionaries to teach them how to farm or to help find new hunting grounds because the entire planet is covered in metal! Let's see … the population of Saiyajin is near twenty thousand or so … I can feed them straight out of my pocket for three weeks tops, but then what will I do when the money is gone? “Shit, how the hell do I feed them …?”

“Can't you transport them all to Kanassa-sei when your little invasion there is over? There's a lot of them,” Vegeta slowly looked up at her, having almost forgotten his wife's presence, “but if you get some assault ships to help carry them and their belongings there, then that will take care of finding potential occupants once the planet is purged.”

“Assault ships aren't big enough for twenty thousand people and their households,” he said at last, watching her eyes become large in slight shock. “Perhaps I could hire transports designed for moving furniture though … I could ask them to help pay for this, say … ten or twenty percent of the cost of transporting their things, and the rest of the trip is free. That would help save some of the cost of moving and feeding them until they can reach Kanassa-sei.” He tapped his finger on his desk before he began to sort his work out, looking for the right frequencies he would have to use to start the preparations, “But the full moon is in three days. I can't just tell them that they have to pack up, and give me whatever money that they have left because they must start over somewhere else in less than a week.”

Kakarotto's head cocked before she nodded, “Find out how much transporting their belongings will cost first. If it's a high price, then ten percent should be just fine, but Wanopuleni-sei isn't so far away from Kanassa-sei, so you could make them pay as high as fifty percent if it's low enough … though you wouldn't want to look too cheap, of course.”

Rubbing his forehead, he looked over the papers before he got up, and went to the doorway, speaking to the slave standing at attention outside, “Find General Nappa, and bring him here.” Turning back to his desk when the slave dashed away, he nodded at Kakarotto, “Would you find someone to bring tea up? I think that Nappa and I shall be retiring late tonight.” After a moment, he shut the door, and caught her hand as she rose to exit, pressing his lips to her palm, “I think that I will be more careful when I'm looking over documents.” Her hand clenched over his in surprise before he saw her smile, and she leaned up to kiss his cheek. When his own jolt of astonishment was soothed away, he tightened his grip on her hand, causing her to stiffen in alarm, “Why did you kiss me?”

“I wanted to,” she said defensively, “but if you're just going to act like this every time I do it, then I suppose I should stop such silly little notions before they begin.”

Pursing his lips, he looked her over gradually before he said, “You can kiss me, but only when you truly want to.” Then he stepped back to let her pass though she didn't move, only staring at him in bewilderment. After a moment, he elaborated, “I like red tea. Order some of that for me.”

Nodding, she walked as far as the door before she turned around, her back straight, and her cheeks flaming red, “I want to be awake tonight. If I fall asleep, would you wake me up?”

Nappa decided to walk in just then, knocking on the door as he came in, “Sire, you called?” His eyes went to the princess standing at the doorway, and her abruptly calm, and peach-colored face before he nodded his head in a bow, “Excuse me, highnesses, didn't mean to intrude.”

“No, it's all right,” Vegeta said, closing his eyes as he composed himself with more effort than she had done. “Get in here, General, I wanted to discuss the situation on Wanopuleni-sei with you.” The bald man ducked his head in another bow, and came in fully, dwarfing him and his wife put together, and causing a slight surge of jealousy in the shorter prince.

“I thought that Wanopuleni-sei was already taken care of plan-wise. Did something come up?” He went to sit at the chair in front of Vegeta's desk, and the prince moved to take his own chair.

“The situation has changed dramatically. Either my grandfather was testing me, or he was not well informed on the matter, but the rioters are Saiyajin that are starving. Our people.” As Nappa's eyes widened in shock, Vegeta saw his wife still at the door, and he smirked while nodding at her, “Don't worry, I'll wake you up. Get the maids to find you something nice, and don't forget about the tea.” Her chin rose while her cheeks tinged lightly before she curtsied and was out the door before Nappa glanced back at her.

---

He stopped at the palace gates, glancing around at the other applicants that had shown, and then at the guards who were watching the lot of them with suspicious gazes. Sweeping back his long mane of hair, he rubbed his temple tiredly, and wondered if his parents knew that he was missing. To have lost their daughter was a crying shame, but should they realize that their son had left, and didn't intend to come back would break their hearts.

Radittsu would not leave until he was sure that his sister was safe from harm while inside of the huge palace, and if he could not, then it was high time that he put his stealth skills to good use. To be sure, he had never tried getting to know his sister very well, but as a boy, he had determined that becoming attached to her would prove a bad thing in the long run. When she and his mother had finally gone out the door, he had been struck with an odd feeling throughout his form, and he had been ill in the washroom's sink for the entire time that they had been away. Upon his mother's return, Radittsu had felt only marginally better.

Since then, the only meals he had been able to hold down had been what he had caught out in the wild when he was trekking toward the capital, Talji'Be. The man had left home only a day after his sister had, bearing through her `funeral' with a grimace before he finally found himself in the desert. He had not known then where he was heading before he saw that he was facing the sinking suns, and saw Kakarotto's hair in the arching rays as they sank into the hills. Radittsu couldn't remember a time that he had run faster or sweated harder. His sister was calling to him from Talji'Be, and needed him with her. As he stared up at the gilded arches of the gates, Radittsu promised himself that he would leave her side only if he died.

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Pffff! Als don't sleep! We never sleep! XP We do get tired though, so sometimes at night we shut our eyes for a few hours at a time. Mmm … closing some issues up in the story, but opening up several new ones too! Can you see `em? Cause I sure can't - I lost them, so tell me where they are …

XP

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