Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ tHe DeStInY oF ChAlLeNgE ❯ Betrayal's Exposure... ( Chapter 17 )

The Destiny of Challenge

Note- Please re-read the prologue of this story, I've re-written it and you need to read the changed version to better understand what shall come in upcoming chapters!!!

~Disclaimer- Obviously I do not own DBZ! But I own this story and the writing is my own as well!

~Author's Note- Thanks to all reviewers, and for those who responded to my questions, all answers were greatly appreciated! I had actually planned to update sooner, though was faced with a subtle writer's block. Sorry for the delay! Also, check out the poem that pertains to this story, it's called Stolen Times, Remaining Love.

Revelations in this story are about to begin! The prophecy deemed worthy of the Saiyan no Ouji will soon become reality, though a twist of fate and a strand of deceit is all it takes to set the prophesized into a down swirl of pain. I've decided on a sequel to the story and you'll all discover the reasoning to this soon enough. There will be about ten more chapters to this part...so it will be a while longer before this chapter of the series ends. Though drastic changes will occur, leaving the pair into obstacles that possibly can't be defeated.

Chapter 17~ Betrayal's Exposure…

Silently she strode through the swerving halls of the Lord's estate, though within her mind was creating continuous hateful thoughts of the one who had stolen her lover's gaze, possibly even him. But past the flames of hatred there were her thoughts of bliss when all would be better, and her nemesis was a broken woman, never to be repaired. Anticipation of this moment sparkled in her eyes as she approached the Lord Zaladar's main living quarters. She would have vengeance on the blue-haired wench, and that was not a subject to be negotiated.

Raising her dainty hand she knocked on the large opaque door before her. Momentarily after the gesture a voice from within granted her entrance warmly. Taking lead, Nakilia entered the well-lit room with a smile curving her face, and only she knew why. Recalling the conversation that transpired the night one moon ago was more than enough to make her grin at the new leverage she had gained, and it simply isn't Saiyan not to act on it, she reminded herself as she nodded her head respectfully to the Lord.

* * * * * * *

The night before…

"Well then what in the seven realms is she?!" Nakilia barked exasperatedly.

"She- well she is- she's a slave." Yamcha mumbled out hesitantly knowing the Lady Nakilia's response to his claim would not be in good spirits.

Nakilia's eyes expanded ten times their size as she reviewed Yamcha's words within her head dumfounded.

"How quaint." She snarled in a dangerous tone, after a long silence.

* * * * * * *

Present time…

Lord Zaladar repeated the gesture, bowing his head slightly in recognition to her status.

"May I help you my Lady?" Lord asked kindly, although he hated the woman before him he would not falter in who he was to sink to her dwindling level of honor.

`Kind old fool', Nakilia seethed indignantly.

"Why yes, you can indeed. You see, my room is in absolute shambles." She spoke dramatically.

"I will send a servant to attend to it at once." Lord Zaladar affirmed.

"Yes, please do so. Though I would like a specific one, Bulma I believe. You see, after quarreling with the broad, she has gained respect. Mine as well." Nakilia spoke while sporting one of her best smiles.

"Though ill perceived," Lord Zaladar stated bluntly.

"Do not test me old fool!" Nakilia warned bitterly.

Knowing that as the being of courtship to the Prince the Lady Nakilia was, at the moment at least, untouchable, the Lord nodded dully.

"She will attend to your quarters shortly, Lady Nakilia." He complied reluctantly.

"Good." Nakilia spat as she retreated from the building, leaving a man with a now heavy heart.

`How's Bulma going to take this?, he questioned himself forlornly.

* * * * * * *

Bulma begrudgingly sauntered through the vacant halls, the wind whistling past her sensitive ears, making the loose aqua strands to whip about her saddened features. Her dainty feet were carelessly being dragged from her own doing as she came to the doorstep of Lord Zaladar. Taking in a breath she pounded her fist, though lightly, upon the seemingly hollow door. She could hear the sound echoing within as she waited patiently, a foreboding wave washing over her mind, as it was lost to a distant plain of uncertain eternities. She had hoped the Lord would not beckon for her, though her she was now, at his request. Worry lurked in her thoughts; had the Lord known of her over active state?

She knew that the Lord disapproved when she would occupy herself with petty little jobs, just to strain the time she was given. Even though she hated to be here now, no regret darkened her demeanor, for the night spent with the Prince was one of cherishment. Had she known of the Prince's engagement with the Lady Nakilia prior to their encounter, things would most definitely have been different within her view. Though that flaw still remained in the shadows, never to meet the haze of light, hopefully.

Her heart jumped slightly as the door was opened, granting her the sight of the Lord's sorrow filled gaze. Though she could not comprehend the heavy gaze set in his usually happy outlook, she greeted him none-the-less.

"My Lord," Bulma said, lightly bowing her head.

"Bulma, dear child, I- I have a peculiar job for you," he responded softly as he lead her into the room, seating her in a lounge chair.

Bulma's eyebrows knitted together in bemusement, her sapphire eyes eyeing him uncertainly, though trustingly.

"What is it that you ask of me, my Lord?"

"A simple task, far below your standards," he explained softly, "but you see you have been requested as a cleaning maid."

"Have another do so, why ask of me such a petty task," Bulma barked, the rage that granted her sassy tongue freedom flaring within her cold gaze.

"I mustn't refuse a request made by any guest of the estate," he chided softly, "I'm sorry, dear child."

"I understand," Bulma spoke, her head bowing down in guilt, "Which chamber."

"The Lady Nakilia's," he replied shortly, knowing approval would not be gained from his fiery friend.

"Hai," she said offhandedly before realization sunk, "Wha- What!"

Before the Lord could say a word, Bulma left with a feral growl, stomping all the way.

"Gora, watch over Bulma, may her actions be kept- in control," the Lord mumbled softly as treaded softly on the tile floors towards the door in attempt to close the door that was left agape.

Though the task was left undone as his youngest daughter entered the chamber frantically.

* * * * * * *

As Bulma stalked through the estate she tried to keep her breaths even. Restraining from the urge to roar in anger she hummed a soft tune, anything to calm her edging nerves. Each agitated step towards the Lady's chambers was a chill reminder of the hatred she felt for the Lady herself. How did she discover her true identity? That was still a mystery, but she did not dwell on it as she came to her destination.

Gingerly, Bulma placed her hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly as she pushed the door away from its fame. Taking uncertain steps inside, Bulma glanced about the room, searching for the culprit to her present troubles. Seeing that Lady Nakilia wasn't occupying the room currently, she proceeded into the room. With a huff of heated air Bulma knelt to pick up an article of clothing that was carelessly thrown about the room.

"I bet the wench ransacked her room before," Bulma mumbled as she noticed several sheets lying on the floor besides the bed itself.

With a growl she crawled towards them, though before any further inspection could be made, Bulma noticed a rather large lump in the extravagant bed comforter. Quirking a thin blue eyebrow, Bulma rose and narrowed her eyes as she studied the outlining of the body beneath.

"Is it just me or did Nakilia gain a couple pounds," Bulma growled underneath her breath, as she took notice to the broad form of the being.

Studying from afar, Bulma decided that it was best to stay quiet and exit the chambers before Nakilia's bedmate awoke. Fumbling about the room she collected the articles that were strewn about, making a small effort to remain quiet. Leaning down she reached for the large dresser, of which she assumed was Nakilia's. Grasping the golden hedge of the drawer, Bulma opened it to reveal numerous battle garments, along with a few royal armor sets.

` Royal armor?' Bulma's mind screamed as her dainty hands ran over the smooth navy blue material.

"Look wench, if you don't get your mangy paws off my possessions you will cleaning for the undertaker instead," a muffled growl came from underneath the large mattress.

Bulma turned on her heel, her sapphire eyes glowing faintly with the anger that swelled within her.

"I'm so sorry, your highness," Bulma spat, sarcasm dripping from her infuriated tone.

At the sound of her voice, Vegeta abruptly tossed the covers away, exposing the upper half of his body in all its marvelous wonder. It was her, the one who he had stripped her only innocence, the very one that could never be redeemed. Her sapphire eyes were twitching with anger or pain, he could not tell. Her body posture expressed rage, but within her cerulean pools he saw the flashes of pain the swept past her glaring eyes.

`What must she think?', his mind screamed as her fists clenched.

"My Prince, so nice of you to be here," Bulma hissed vehemently.

"Humph," was his only answer. What could he say to her?

Surely he wasn't going to apologize or grovel on his knees and explain to her what the reality of the situation is. No, he owed her no explanation. He was the Saiyan no Ouji, she couldn't, wouldn't question him or his actions.

"I see what I am now," Bulma spoke coyly, "just a simple fuck, right? I always said reality is a demon, and how true that is."

"Onna,-" Vegeta's voice was near a whisper, but his statement was cut short by Bulma's icy reply.

"You were wrong, Stump. Lust can be overlooked by a skilled eye." She said in a strong willed voice that at that moment didn't seem to be her own as her heart filled with resentment and overwhelming pain. Revealing that she truly did know he was the infamous slave, only gave her a moments satisfaction, but it kept her wits about her as she looked upon his mask of indifference and cold exterior.

Silence prevailed heavily about the room, but Bulma cut through it with her cold voice of the deceit that contorted her past seemingly optimistic outlook of life into a raging blur of pain.

"Rule number one: Never love the enemy." Bulma said raggedly.

Spinning on her heel she started to walk from the building, from her pain, from the betrayer. Stopping midway, she didn't bother to turn as she spoke,

"But don't worry, Vegeta. I've rectified my errors, though be assured that you shall never." She said, her broken voice betraying her icy exterior. She dare not turn and reveal her now mystified eyes as she left the Prince to choke on her words. Though in reality, he truly was.

Love?, his mind raced as her words echoed through his body and soul.

His body stiffened as he caught site of a porcelain tear that seemed to fall in a stilled moment from Bulma's retreating form, slowly making its way to the hard tile floor of the doorway. Her slender form slipped out of the room, simultaneous with the liquid her eyes had shed as it was crushed by the gravity, torn into small shards of thin streaks across a single tile. She had cried, for him? Tremors vibrated his now fragile form as he felt the woman's ki fluctuate with each sob he could not hear. Each tremble he was sure her body was suffering, and yet he could not comfort her. He was the cause, the soul being that created her pain. That in itself was a cold reality that created his own pain, though Vegeta figured it was deserved. As that single thought coursed through his vulnerable mind, Vegeta's demeanor capsized into a mask of cold indifference. He never asked for her love, the onna caused her own pain with her foolish accusations. How dare she try and make him feel guilty for a crime he did not commit?

The vixen was insolent, he owed her nothing!

`The Saiyan no Ouji bends to no one!', growled inwardly as he arose from the bed, exposing his naked flesh in its entire splendor. Though the moment was short lived as he donned himself with a training suit made of silken material that clung to his body like a second skin, each black strand conforming to his sculpted muscles, and emphasizing every groove in his being. With a grunt Vegeta slipped on his average white boots and stalked from the room, leaving the door ajar as the woman had left it.

His face was contorted in anger as he strutted through the narrow hallways, every agitated step reminding his infuriated thoughts of the onna's swollen eyes as she escaped his gaze. Everything his dark orbs beheld in their penetrating depths was classified as threat, even the fractured lines in the stone below him. All his senses were intoned on his surroundings. Even the slightest sound would thunder in his overactive ears. Nothing was trusted, not even his own self, for thoughts of comforting the onna had slithered in his fiery mind.

A light peck could be heard behind him. With breathtaking speed, Vegeta swerved his body to face a flushed Halie, staring wide-eyed at him. Vegeta was literally shocked that he hadn't obliterated her now trembling form in his defensive state.

Clearing her throat, Halie spoke in a husky whisper, "My Prince, I have been looking for you," with a momentary pause she added in the same sultry purr, "As I am sure you were doing the same."

Now he wished he had over reacted to her presence, annihilating the foul being once and for all.

"You would be mistaken then," he growled, his voice laced with deadly intent.

His coal black eyes showed that the threat underlying in his words was not idle. Halie fidgeted under his scrutinizing gaze, it almost begged for her to prompt his force, ultimately resulting in her death.

"Milord, do not threat. No others know of our...infinite passion," Halie soothed.

"What?!?," Vegeta gasped, dumbstruck by her willful words.

`How dare she suggest such a scenario!', his mind raged, his eyes narrowing into hateful slits.

"That is why you are here presently, is it not? My letters..." Halie attempted as she softly brushed the side of his face with the back of her hand.

Lashing out quickly, Vegeta removed the offending limb and snarled lowly, he just couldn't believe this wench's stupidity.

"May it be you suffer severely of idiocy, or are just ignorant, I know not. But I can assure you that my presence isn't, and never will be, on your beckon call!"

"What is I said I was on yours," she purred, pressing her body to his chest, suddenly the training suit he wore seemed to be too thin.

Vegeta didn't even bother to move, no, the persistent female was in his space. Rage coursed through his body, flowing through his fines and stringing his muscles with his own power. A bright light radiated from his being, yet his onyx depths did not falter from the light he emitted, instead they darkened in comparison to the vibrant flare of ocean blue light. His ki avoided the now shivering form of Halie, only growing about his own body. An animalistic growl vibrated within his chest, quaking his entire body as his ki fluctuated. The outburst forced the offending body away from him, tossing her through the splitting air, only letting her land once she was at least twenty feet from his side.

Only a squeal of terror notified him that she had realized the action.

"I'd say I reject your foul, diseased form, wench."

With the bitter words spoken, the enraged, though now satisfied, Saiyan no Ouji stalked away with an impertinent scowl molding his lips.

A/N:

Sorry for the shortness! Review and the next chapter will come, really soon! Please re-read the prologue of this story, I've re-written it and you need to read the changed version to better understand what shall come in upcoming chapters!!!