Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The King and Queen Diaries ❯ Douyou ( Chapter 3 )

Author's Note: Hello everyone, I want to thank Fubuplayer2005 (I am sincerely grateful for you saying that this is your favorite story!), cha seew bow, Vegeta's Mate (good luck on that race day banquet!), AnimeLoverVS (lol, you are right, Yamcha already is over the edge, but thanks to some movie inspiration, he is going to be even MORE over the edge, *evil grin*), pyshoitic_hanyou, and maccam (lol, if the last chapter was deep, then this one is in hell...)!

These are the only people who reviewed last chapter, and I want to thank them personally. This chapter is excellent. I had so much fun writing this chapter, even though it took a couple of revisions to sound just perfect to me.

By the way, I am still looking for a beta reader. Anyone interested? PLEASE HELP ME!

Anyhow...I hope you all enjoy, and I hope that you also review, which is where 98% of my inspiration comes from. Have fun!

 

********

 

Chapter Three: Douyou (Disturbance)

 

“Did you hear about the Queen?”

 

“No, no I must say that I haven't.”

 

A person laughed. “She tried to kill herself! She literally flung herself down the stairs in the palace. And guess what?”

 

There were startled gasps. “What?”

 

“She killed her child with her, too.”

 

Outraged cries. “She killed the heir?”

 

“Oh yes. King Vegeta is absolutely devastated....”

 

 

 

*********

 

 

 

Vegeta stared lifelessly at the wall above the bed. It had been two days now, since he had heard his wife's voice. Two days since she had opened her beautiful, blue eyes.

 

She had lost their baby.

 

They had not even known for a day, and it was gone. It had not even registered, and his child...their child, was dead.

 

His head fell into tired hands. Had she done it on purpose? No one knew. Everything was a mess. He had every noble on the planet breathing down his neck about the girl that had been raped. Everyone wanted to know what had happened to the Queen, why he had not made any appearances, and why he had canceled the tournament until further notice.

 

By the gods, he did not know what to do. He had not moved very much since Bulma had been carried into the infirmary, looking to him like she was dead. He had been so devastated at the thought of his wife being gone...it was almost too much to know that she was alive, but they had lost their first child.

 

What was he going to do? How much longer was she going to sleep?

 

The doctors had told him that she was in a state of shock, almost like a coma, but not quite. They said she could snap out of it at any moment...meaning it could be minutes, hours...or even days.

 

What was he going to say to her when she woke up? Ask her if she threw herself down the stairs? Ask her if she purposefully killed their child in a fit of rage?

 

How was he going to tell her that she had lost their baby?

 

God, he could remember only a few hours after Bulma had been carried into the infirmary. The doctors had run hundreds of diagnostics on her, but they had said it would take time to tell. There was no way to tell if anything was wrong with her brain, or even with the baby.

 

And then it had happened. Her body had convulsed, and the moment he dove in to help her, he had been covered in blood. He had been shocked to learn that she was miscarrying, a term that meant she was losing a baby.

 

He had watched for what seemed like forever as her body thrashed in pain on the bed, drenching the sheets and her clothes with blood and sweat. She had been so very white...she had looked like a ghost. The doctors had been scared of hemorrhaging, but they had managed to keep his wife safe. She was fine; she was healthy as far as they knew...it was just a matter of time until she woke up.

 

If she even did.

 

He stood with much effort. His body was stiff and sore from sitting in the same chair for so long. He had barely eaten and he was starving to death. He was going to get something to eat, and come back to see how his wife was. Until then, she was alone.

 

 

 

*********

 

 

 

Stark, white lights.

 

Oh god, it hurt her eyes.

 

Her whole body hurt, ached...pounded with agony.

 

She tried to call for help, but all that came out was a croaked gasp.

 

She needed water. Badly.

 

She looked around, but it was still hard to see. She was not used to the lights that were above her, and they were blinding her to death.

 

“W...w...w-wa...ter.”

 

It burned her throat like acid. Her mouth tasted like rotted paper, and it felt like she could not move. It was as if her body was detached from her mind, so she could not tell it what to do.

 

“H...h-e...lp.”

 

Where was everyone? It seemed like there should have been people everywhere.

 

She turned her head to the side, groaning in pain with the effort it took. Her neck was so stiff she knew it was going to take days to work out the kinks. She looked forward to it with little enthusiasm.

 

It was then that she saw it. Her eyes widened, and her mouth tried to water without much success. It was a glass of red juice, it looked half-full, as if someone had been drinking it, but she did not care if it carried a disease or poison. She was so very, very thirsty.

 

She reached for it with everything she had, but she was still too far away. Her body refused to move, and she gritted her teeth as she forcefully pulled her body up with her arms, trying to sit up so she could have a better reach.

 

Sharp shooting pains spurted through her, and she gasped and fell back down onto the white sheets. She was panting heavily, as if she had exerted herself forcefully.

 

Bulma took a moment to relax and try to reawaken her numb body. She had no clue where she was at, what she was doing there, and why she was in so much pain. Whatever the reason was, at least she was not surrounded by murderous looking villains wanting to kill her.

 

She drew in a deep breath after tentatively moving all her limbs. Her arms were sore, but her legs ached like they had been stabbed repeatedly. An ever-present tenderness between her legs alerted her that something had happened, but she knew not what it was.

 

After another try, she successfully reached the glass of red juice. She grasped it greedily, her eyes shining with gluttony as she held the glass in both hands and drank it so fast it ran down her chin and onto her white nightgown.

 

When she finished it, she fell back onto the bed, panting. That had been so good. Now all she needed was food and a long, long bath.

 

Where is Vegeta?

 

The question caused her brow to furrow. Whatever had happened to her, it could not have been good. She would have thought that he would have been there with her, but he was not. Was he still mad at her?

 

It was a good ten minutes before she heard the door creak open. She had been falling back asleep, but the moment the door opened, her eyes widened.

 

“V...Ve...geta.”

 

He looked shocked to see her awake. He hesitated a moment before he rushed to her side, grasping her hand. “Are you all right?”

 

She nodded, fluttering her hand through the air. It was still hard to speak, so she hoped that he understood her clearly. “In...p-pain.”

 

He flinched at her words, as if he understood something that she did not. She watched him as he walked away from her to the door, and disappeared. He came back a minute later, promising her that medicine was on the way as he took her hand again.

 

“Do you need anything?” he asked, watching her eyes light up through the shadow of pain that had glazed them over. She nodded enthusiastically, and then whimpered and grabbed the back of her neck at the movement. He gave her a look of concern, his dark ebony eyes almost seeming sad. Her hand trembled weakly as it reached for his cheek, and he grasped it to hold it there when it finally managed to make its destination.

 

“It...it h...h-h...urts.”

 

She coughed, her throat becoming dry again. She grasped her throat to show him that it was hard to talk, and he seemed to understand immediately. He reached for the glass that had been sitting next to her bed, and then frowned when he saw that it was empty.

 

A moment later, a small smile cocked the corner of his lips. “Did you steal my ponamin drink?”

 

Her eyes sparkled and she nodded, loving the look of faked harshness on his face. He was playing around with her.

 

He chuckled and stood, the glass in his hand. “Well, I suppose that you are lucky that we are so very rich, because that drink is expensive as hell, woman.”

 

She pouted, happy that the movement of her lips at least was not painful. “Yum,” she managed, for she had never tried the drink before. “More,” she demanded haughtily. “N-now.”

 

He shook his head at her, amusement showing in his eyes. His expression changed though after a moment, to a softer one. It was almost as if every feature on his face melted, and Bulma found him by her side once again only a moment later.

 

“Bulma...I do not know what happened to you, but whenever I get back and we get a chance to talk...we will. Do you understand?”

 

Her face fell, her skin turning so white that it contrasted against her frothy virginal nightgown.

 

He left at that, telling her that he would get her some more ponamin. She nodded and looked down at the sheets she was covered with. She had not noticed that her hands had been gripping them so very tightly.

 

“Good afternoon, my Queen. His highness had just informed us that you have awakened and are in pain. Is this true?”

 

She nodded, and then flinched at the movement once again. The doctor, an old man, reminded her briefly of her father, who she missed dreadfully. He had left shortly after her coronation, and she had heard little of him since then.

 

The doctor walked around the room, locating a specific vile amongst an array of them on a tray. He filled a needle with the clear fluid, and she bit her lip at the impending stab wound. The needle was long, and it reminded her of the needle that had been plunged into her husband's abdomen with the vaccine to save his life.

 

“Here you go, your highness. Just a small sting.”

 

She did not even cringe when he stuck her in the arm with it. He was wiping off the dot of blood that had emerged when Vegeta reappeared, causing the doctor to bow. After bowing, he continued to inspect the Queen and her health status.

 

“Your highness,” he said respectfully, and Vegeta nodded as he passed him with the ponamin drink for his wife. She smiled so brightly when she saw what was in his hands, that he chuckled and let her grab it greedily. She downed the whole thing immediately and then licked her lips.

 

Vegeta sighed when she handed him back the glass and demanded more. “I think that instead of just drinking away your hunger and thirst, you should also get something to eat. What do you say we ask the doctor if it is healthy enough for you to return to your room, where you can be monitored there?”

 

She nodded her head, but gently this time. She had learned her lesson.

 

“Is it allowed for her to return to her suite?” the King asked, watching as the doctor flipped through her charts after taking a closer look at her, mostly her head. He looked like he was in deep concentration.

 

“Yes, but...we will have to keep her on some pain medication for a while, as well as keep an eye on her.” He looked up and gave Vegeta a close look. “You will alert us if anything happens, correct?”

 

Vegeta frowned at the old man. “Of course. I would not jeopardize my wife's health, you stupid old fool.”

 

The doctor nodded as if he had not heard the slight hurled at his head. Bulma laughed to herself. Vegeta was losing his viciousness.

 

Bulma was ensconced in their room a half an hour later. She heard Vegeta order the East Wing to be watched by at least twenty guards. She gave him a confused look when he reentered the room, not understanding why he would want so many men patrolling their area of the palace.

 

He looked hard and unforgiving when he returned to her side. His face was so dark that she wanted to move away from him. The sudden change scared her. This Vegeta reminded her of the one before he had left over four years.

 

“Do you require anything?”

 

She shook her head, although she dreadfully wished for a bath. She was not quite at the point where she would smell, but her hair was oily, and her body was yearning for the deep, penetrating warmth.

 

“Then we need to talk.”

 

She nodded, still not quite trusting her voice. She tested it briefly with a single word. “Wrong?”

 

His lips turned down as he sat next to her on the bed, not touching her. She wanted to reach out to him, but his look told her no. He still looked too mean.

 

“Bulma...over two days ago, I told you to go to the infirmary, do you remember?”

 

Of course she did. She remembered everything. She would never, ever forget.

 

At her nod, he continued. “Whenever I followed after you, I found you, Bulma. I found you lying at the foot of the stairs, lying in an awkward position. You looked dead.”

 

Bulma grasped her throat, picturing what Vegeta had seen. Had there been any blood? Maybe her fall was the reason why she was in so much pain. Or maybe something else had happened?

 

“Did you throw yourself down the stairs, Bulma? To perhaps harm yourself...or our baby?”

 

She violently shook her head, uncaring of the pain. She immediately reached out to grab his arm, and he allowed the contact, which surprised her.

 

Vegeta flinched when he saw her free hand lay over her stomach, as if protecting her baby. Her hand made small circular movements, and he had to look away.

 

“Pushed.”

 

He turned back around so fast that it looked painful. His eyebrow shot up, and then his eyes narrowed on her, one of his hands taking hold of hers and holding it almost to the point were her bones were starting to give. “Someone...someone pushed you?

 

She nodded again, her eyes watering at the memory. By the gods, she wished her throat were not so raw, because she would have been able to tell him in full detail what had happened.

 

She looked around, as if searching for something. Vegeta cocked his head to the side, trying to figure her out. “Are you looking for something?”

 

She nodded, swallowing as she prepared her throat for speech. “P...p-paper.”

 

He understood instantly, and only a few minutes later she had a sheet of parchment in her hands and a pencil, a new development on their planet. She wrote quickly, ignoring the small pains in her hands.

 

I was walking down the hall, and I reached the top of the stairs. I remember thinking about how Chichi and I would slide down the banister, and how we would have so much fun. It was then that a hand came over my mouth and tried to keep me from screaming, but I shoved my elbow into their stomach and stomped on their foot. I was released, but when I went to run away from whoever did it, they pushed me down the stairs. I think I hit my head...my body hurts so much, Vegeta. Do you know anything else that happened?

 

He looked to be in shock. His hands shook slightly as he read what was on the paper, taking in her elegant Saiya-jin symbols, and he looked at her with his eyes wide. It was almost as if he could not believe that someone had actually penetrated the palace and attacked her.

 

His face turned so dark with violence that she felt fear tingle up her spine. The old Vegeta was back again. “V...Ve-geta?”

 

His fingers fisted in the paper, and he threw it away from him violently as his hands covered his face. It looked as if major emotions were conflicting inside him, and the pain was excruciating. She heard him muttering things behind his fingers that she could not hear, and she wondered if she would have wanted to. His whole body was shaking, and his breathing sounded agonizing. What was wrong with him? She had never seen him so upset in her whole life...even whenever he had almost died.

 

Bulma gasped when he turned back to her and was beside the bed in the next instant, his arms wrapped around her in a death grip. Instinctually she draped her own arms around him, stunned at the trembling of his frame. She laid her cheek on his shoulder and tried to soothe him by gently rubbing his back.

 

It all came pouring out a second later. “I thought that you tried to kill yourself, Bulma. I was so worried that you were mad at me for making you go to the infirmary that you had thrown yourself down the stairs. When I found you, I thought that you were dead. I...I almost cried...I thought that I had lost you.” Bulma's eyes widened as everything just spilled out like a rainstorm wanting to be unleashed...it sounded so dramatic and so painful that her insides clenched. “One of your ladies-in-waiting was raped...it was Ilea. When her father found out, he wanted to kill me...he feels betrayed by his own planet. I have every noble who has a daughter in the palace demanding their child back. I delayed the rest of the tournament until you had awakened...you were out for two days, Bulma.”

 

Her eyes watered and the tears spilled over as he stopped, but his hold on her never weakened. He seemed so disturbed about something...but what?

 

He pulled back and looked at her, his hands gripping onto her arms. She could feel his emotion...it was almost a physical thing. What in the world was wrong with him?

 

“Bulma,” he choked, shaking his head as if to rid himself of something. Was he fighting tears?

 

“Your baby...our baby...he....”

 

He did not have to finish his sentence. Bulma felt her heart accelerate so fast that she felt pain shoot through her chest. She felt panic build up inside her, and she began to hyperventilate as realization dawned on her. She knew now why she had been in so much pain. It had not been just because of the fall...she had lost her baby.

 

“No. You lie,” she said, her voice harsh. She shook him hard, violently, wanting to inflict pain. She had barely even registered in her mind that she was going to have a baby, and now the notion, which had started to grow on her, would have grown on her, was ripped away from her because of one hateful, disgusting person.

 

Vegeta was surprised by her strength when she nearly threw him off the bed. He fell backwards as she flew off the sheets, her arms wrapped around herself. He could hear her uneven breathing as she walked erratically around the room, her eyes wild.

 

“You lie, Vegeta. You lie,” she kept saying, repeating it over and over again like a mantra, almost like she was trying to protect herself from the truth. He watched as her whole body trembled and gave out on her, and her knees hit the carpet hard. Tears poured down her face as she rocked back and forth, still holding herself.

 

“It is not fair,” she whispered brokenly, staring at the wall. Her fierce eyes turned on him a moment later, and he was pinned to his spot with how dark they were, how full of sorrow and agony.

 

“He did not even have a chance. I did not even get to show him or her how much I was going to love them someday...Vegeta,” she cried out to him, her body shaking so horribly that her teeth were chattering.

 

Vegeta was at her side in the next instant, wrapping his arms around her securely. He had thought that maybe she would not have been this upset, but he had been wrong...terribly wrong. He had thought that because they were so young, so not ready for a baby, that she might have understood and accepted it over time. But hearing her, listening to her, he grasped what she was feeling.

 

Bulma was a person who relied on her feelings and emotions...the thought of death disturbed her, let alone the thought of her own child. He closed his eyes as he pictured how much Bulma would have loved their child, how she would have cherished it. He could see in his mind's eye her heavy with his child, a big, happy smile on her face as she talked to the baby inside her, caressed her tummy, telling him or her how much she loved them, and how much she was going to spoil them when they grew up.

 

The image disturbed him greatly, and he buried his face in her hair as he picked her up. She was still sobbing as he carried her into their bathing chamber and divested her of her nightgown, hoping to get her to relax some in a tub of hot water. It always made her feel better, no matter what mood she was in.

 

Once she was up to her neck in steaming hot water, Vegeta shucked off his own clothing and followed in after her. She was staring off into space, her body still. It was like she refused to acknowledge existence.

 

Bulma felt her husband's presence behind her, but she did not loosen up when he began the process of washing her. He carefully pushed her down into the water until only her face was above it, so he could wet her hip-length hair. She blinked as she stared up at the white and gold ceiling, not surprised at its soaring grandeur.

 

“I was wondering why it hurt so bad....”

 

Neither of them noticed that her voice was back. All Vegeta could do was nod as he pulled her back up against his chest and grabbed a bar of her favorite scented soap, which she always kept nearby.

 

Bulma felt nothing sexual from her husband as he washed her body gently, and even though her mind was in turmoil, she felt her body gradually calm down. A few trembles found their way through her small frame, but after a few minutes, they died down altogether. She closed her eyes at the feeling of his big hands running tenderly over her skin, his touch so delicate that it was almost too much.

 

Vegeta slowly lathered her hair and was careful not to let soap get into her eyes. She had them closed, but that did not mean that she was not aware of what was going on or was not thinking. He knew that she was going to be upset for a very, very long time...just like he was going to be. But that did not mean that there would not be any more children in the future.

 

A thought struck him. He looked down at her features, and saw the frown lines starting to smooth. He smiled down at her and traced his finger over her heat-flushed cheek.

 

Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared at him upside down. She was surprised to see a smile on his face, and she blinked up at him.

 

“Bulma,” he said quietly, stroking her cheek. His affection was something that she needed, and she was so very happy that he was unashamed to give it to her in her time of need. She leaned into his touch, yearning for it.

 

“Yes,” she whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

 

Vegeta watched as her eyes closed again, and she let herself rest heavier back against him. He felt oddly touched, for he had not thought his ministrations had been working as well as he had wanted.

 

“Would you be mad if I asked you something?”

 

She immediately thought that he wanted her body, and she stiffened in alarm. She knew that he would not be able to touch her for a while, for her body was recovering from her unexpected miscarriage. She could still feel the tenderness between her legs...she was going to be incapable of making love to him for a while. Her eyes watered at the return of the thought of her lost child, but she forced them back. She had never turned Vegeta down before...how was he going to react?

 

“Vegeta...I...I cannot—“

 

He shook his head and placed his finger over her lips. “Shh. I was not going to ask you for that.” He was not entirely stupid...she was still bleeding from the loss of their child. The doctor had told him specifically to keep his hands off her for a couple weeks before they had returned to their suite.

 

She looked up at him in confusion. “Then...what?”

 

His smile returned, along with the caress on her cheek. “After you have healed and you are ready...would you be angry with me if I asked you...if we could try to have another child right away?”

 

She choked on tears the instant the words came out of his mouth. She turned in his arms and curled her whole body around him, her wet skin pressed tightly against his. “Oh, Vegeta. I love you so much.”

 

The soap in her hair got in his eyes, but he did not care. All he cared about was her happiness, and it was coming off her in nearly tangible waves. He hugged her tighter and then pushed her back, wiping away a trail of soap that was running down her neck.

 

“I love you too, Bulma. I will never let anything happen to you ever again...I promise.”

 

She gave him a watery smile, and hugged him again. She fought the tears, but they won in the end. She was still smiling though, and she kissed his mouth lightly. “Thank you, Vegeta,” she whispered. “Thank you so very much.”

 

*********

 

Author's Note: Well, there you have it. What is Bulma going to do now? Is she going to get back on her feet and show the world that no one messes with her? Is she going to find out who pushed her down the stairs and killed her baby? And what about Vegeta? Is he going to bust some heads?

Well, you probably won't find out for a while because no one seems to be reading this story anymore! I think that since everyone has killed my motivation, that I am just going to chill for a month or two. Maybe then, whenever I update next, I will have people that honestly missed an update.

Anyone know a beta? Please tell me!

Thanks for reading, and oh yeah, you don't have to review because, well...you don't in the first place!

Hardy hardy har har!