Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The King and Queen Diaries ❯ Hajimeru ( Chapter 13 )

Author's Note: Ok...I am so eternally sorry for not updating in so long, but I have been SO busy. I graduated from business school after two years with an associate's degree, aren't you proud of me!? And I am getting engaged to be married! OMG! So happy! Anyhow, enjoy!!!!!

 

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Chapter Thirteen: Hajimeru (It Begins)

 

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Bulma was immediately told not to leave her suite as Bardock tore out of the room, cursing lividly.

 

Seconds later, Bulma ran over to the windows and unlocked the latch, pushing the glass pane outward. Wind and rain blasted her face, but even from the height and distance that she was at, she could hear screaming and yelling down in the city.

 

They are here.

 

Bulma watched as an odd line emerged from the trees over a mile away. The orange glow doubled in brightness, and when she squinted her eyes, she realized what the line was.

 

She gasped as the line multiplied, and then tripled in size. The orange glow began spreading clear across the trees, until the trees themselves looked like they were on fire. The screaming in the city increased as more and more villagers noticed the glow as well, and Bulma saw thousands of people running through the streets, heading for the middle of the city to the protective areas that they were told to go to in case of attack.

 

That was when she heard the cries in the palace. She heard “We're under attack!” shouted and screamed several times, and the bellows of enraged men trying to push through hysterical servants and nobles.

 

Her door burst open seconds later. Bardock, Turles, and Brolli all stood in her doorway, dressed magnificently in their steel breastplates and cloaks. Bardock said with deadly seriousness, “Attire yourself in your armor, your highness. You are desired at the frontline. The men will need your encouragement.”

 

Bulma nodded hastily, not noticing her ghostly appearance as she rushed over to the pile on her bed. The trio immediately left as two maids flew into the room, slamming the door behind them. They chattered frantically as all together they tore off her layered clothing and quickly pulled on the blue suit that went underneath her armor.

 

“Your highness, please don't let this city be taken! Me husband's out there, and he's a fightin' for ya! Please, just let the men know that ya believe in `em, and all will be well! They fight with their hearts, they do! They fight for their planet, they fight for you!”

 

Bulma nodded hurriedly as she lifted her arms and the breastplate was jammed over her head. Delicately it was smoothed over her swelling abdomen, and she felt the material adjust to her shape just like a tight, but not uncomfortable, chemise. She stepped into her boots and thrust her hands into the gloves that were held out for her, and then stood still while they fastened her cloak at her shoulders and threw up her hair.

 

“Me sons are out there, yer majesty. I have three, and they are all willing to die for ye. Please keep our city safe, yer majesty. That's all I ask from ye.”

 

Bulma felt her heart pounding in her chest as she looked in the vanity mirror. The curve of her stomach was clearly visible through the thickness of the armor, and she placed her hand over it to calm herself. Her face was stern and her eyes were dark. Her hair was thrown up in a single ponytail to keep it out of her face, and she looked at herself with pride as she saw herself for the first time in true formal military clothing.

 

She looked like she was ready to die for her planet.

 

Vegeta would be proud of her.

 

Bulma hurriedly moved away from the mirror and claimed the weapons held in her maids' hands. She quickly hooked Vegeta's sword at her side, adorned her arms and right thigh with his long, deadly knives, and then shoved his thin blade into her boot.

 

She nodded stiffly to the maids as she nearly ran out of the room, not seeing their sad waves goodbye.

 

 

 

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Bardock, Turles, Brolli, and a group of fifty or so soldiers met her down in the entrance to the palace. Lord Haschell stood apprehensively beside her ten generals, along with his five advisors. The hall quickly filled to the brim with the palace guards, who were forgoing their positions to fight at the frontline.

 

Bulma felt her heart thumping agonizingly in her chest. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears. Her body felt the need to tremble in fear, but as she strode through the crowd, she held her chin up high and confidently. She was their leader, the only leader they had left, and if she failed in her position, then no one would have any faith in the situation at hand. They relied on her to know that all was good and sound, and she needed to let them know that.

 

She walked by men of all ages, but they all shared one thing in common: they were fighting for their planet. Even if they were scared or even if they were prepared, she knew that she would need to show them that either way, she was there for them.

 

The crowd parted until she stood by the entrance, Bardock and Turles at her sides, and Brolli standing beside Bardock. The men stared at her, both fear and hope in their eyes, and she raised her hand into the air to silence the murmuring.

 

“You have all been informed of what to do by your commanding officers. We are going to rendezvous with the rest of our defense at the outer walls.” She looked somewhat nervously at Bardock, and then nodded to the large crowd as she departed with a brilliant display of her swirling red cloak.

 

There were about twenty horses being held by stable boys as she exited the palace. Immediately Bardock went to aid her in the mounting process, but she refused to look weak in any way, shape, or form in front of her men right then. Bardock gave her a solemn nod as he quickly understood why she had refused his help, and together they all mounted.

 

The Queen of Vegeta-sei looked around to see groups of soldiers already marching towards the outermost fortified walls, ready to defend the city and their planet. Beside her were her friends, and she gave them a sad smile before she gave her horse two sharp heels, and she took off towards the gate, her cloak flying behind her and the sounds of hooves pounding the earth echoing through the city.

 

She rode hurriedly towards the gate, flashing by startled men, women, and children as they looked for shelter. The terror in their eyes only hardened her resolve, and she steered her horse recklessly towards the walls, where her men would meet with her. How much time did they have?

 

The monarch hardly noticed the fierce rain whipping at her face, or the chill in the air from the wind. The storm had only calmed a diminutive amount since it had begun, but at least it was no longer as fierce as it was. It helped some knowing that nature was not entirely against them.

 

The trip took a good twenty minutes, for the people and soldiers in the streets made it hard to maneuver once she got closer to the walls. The aged, thick stone loomed in front of her, and she lost sight of the fiery orange glow once the walls blocked her view.

 

Bardock, Turles, and Brolli stayed close to her as she dismounted. All around her were hundreds of men, drenched to the bone, standing there, waiting for her arrival.

 

Fear began itching at her. She felt her step lagging as her Royal Guard surrounded her. She looked up at the massive walls, which had to be at least forty feet high and so wide that four men could walk abreast at the top and still have room. It was sheltered by a parapet over which only a tall man could look. Every yard or so were clefts in the stone through which men could shoot. This battlement could be reached by a flight of stairs running down from a door in the outer courtyard, and Bulma made her assent up these narrow stairs.

 

Men flooded the ramparts with massive bows and arrows with tips of steel. Bulma noticed as she stepped up the last stairs that the great fires were still burning for light, and she immediately ordered the fires to be doused, but to cover them and protect the coals so they could still burn. The men looked at her with confusion, but did as she told. Bardock gave her a questioning glance, and she explained with, “They will be able to see fine once their eyes have adjusted to the darkness and rain. And the coals will be useful once the enemy is upon the walls.”

 

Bardock shook his head with some amusement as she answered him. She began giving orders immediately upon seeing several things that could be done to their advantage, and he followed her, surprised at her enthusiasm. It was entirely unexpected for her to do this. He had just wanted her to make a little speech, but hell, how could he object when she was helping?

 

“Has the oil been delivered to the gate? I want it sent there at once, Bardock. The enemy will try to break down the gate as soon as they can without major casualties to their side, and I want every possible defense sent there before it happens. I require as many men that can fit in the guard towers beside the gate, and as many that can fit in the room above it. I want timber and stone ready to block the entrance if they start breaking through. If we run out of oil, I want boiling water. I want the men to have their arrows burning, I want—“

 

Bardock had been taking mental notes and giving orders along the way to men standing around as she strolled along the battlements, making calculations and fixing anything that needed to be done for their readiness. He stopped when she stilled her tirade, and watched as she stepped through the men to look out beyond the huge field that separated them from the preparing enemy.

 

He stood beside her as her scheming eye took in how much distance was in between them and their conniving foes. You could see them readying their war machines and organizing their soldiers even at the distance they were at.

 

“Bardock, if we were to send several men out into the field, do you think the enemy would be able to reach them with arrows or their weapons that shoot fire?”

 

Her captain leaned over through a cleft to get a closer look at the grassy field. Before all this had happened, men had been out there, tilling the land and growing food for their tables. Now they were empty and muddy, ready to be trampled upon and filled with death.

 

He took several quick estimates as he stared hard through the sheets of rain. “The forest is a good three-quarters of a mile away, your majesty. The beasts are all along the tree line, so they are about the same distance away. Now, I know an arrow cannot reach us, but we know nothing about their other weapons.” He turned to look at her, his facial expression hard. “What do you have in mind?”

 

Bulma waved her hand through the chilly air to dismiss his question. Immediately she gathered Brolli to her, and whispered what she wanted done in his ear through his sodden hair. He pulled away, looking unsure, and asked, “Do you think it will work with this rain?”

 

She waved her hand through the air again. “Of course. Oil is thick and syrupy, not to mention very resilient against the elements. Get several men and do as I say.”

 

Brolli nodded and ran off. Bulma was left with Turles and Bardock, but the latter looked slighted. The expression on his face forced Bulma to say, “Bardock, you shall see in a matter of minutes what I have in mind. I think you will agree that it is genius.”

 

Bardock glimpsed at his counterpart, who looked intrigued as well. Turles just shrugged and continued to follow his Queen as she began talking and ordering more things done.

 

Bardock, however, stood at the crenellations and waited to see what the Queen had ordered done. He leaned over as he heard the massive iron gates being raised, but was surprised when they were only hoisted up enough for several men to crawl underneath the sharp, deadly metal points.

 

His eyebrow quirked when he saw that the men held large buckets in their hands. Along the walls they ran, dumping a thick, black substance on the ground several feet away from the stone, and then further away at random intervals. Through the rain he could barely see the enemy stirring, for they did not understand what the men were doing.

 

They were making long lines of oil. Bardock shook his head in amusement, for he realized that the Queen wanted the lines to be set afire when it was needed. As she had said, oil would last quite a while against the onslaught of rain, so they did not need to worry about it not working effectively.

 

He chased after her as she made her way to the portcullis. It towered above him as he stepped up to it, and he saw several small fires burning from within through a tiny side window. The Queen had walked up the stairs to make it to the room above the actual gate, where oil, stones, boiling water, or other miscellaneous weapons could be hurled down at the enemy between the two gates that could be lowered or raised. If they got through one gate, then they would have to get through the second one, and by then they would be obliterated by hurling masses.

 

She was gesticulating wildly as she made sure the men had all the supplies they could use. There were only two small slits for windows in the front so the men could shoot arrows through, and only a tiny opening on the other three sides for air ventilation.

 

Turles stood beside her as she ordered several more buckets of arrows delivered immediately to the gatekeeper's room. He made very little suggestions, for she was doing just fine on her own. She was very creative and extremely intelligent, and she was coming up with wonderful and thoughtful ideas. He could see by the looks on the men's faces that she was impressing them with her general knowledge of warfare, for she had come into the duty with very little prior erudition. They stood by and did as told, and had no complaints when she ordered them about.

 

She looked around one last time, and let out a thoughtful sigh. “I do not think there is much more I can do in here. Oil, arrows, stone. There are supplies outside the gate just in case the enemy manages to get through and we need to block up what is left. Hmm....”

 

Bardock watched from his spot in the doorway as she glanced around. He made a suggestion as he lifted himself off the doorframe. “I think you can fit at least two more men in here. That way, the other two that are in here can alternate with the two others while they load their bows, and they will have more help if the enemy breaks through. But by then you can send some more men in here to help pour oil down or whatever else.”

 

Bulma nodded and ordered it done. Almost as soon as the command was issued, she left the room to once again enter the rain, except on the other side of the gate. Here she made more preparations, instructed the men to bring more arrows for there just could not be enough for her, and to quickly bring buckets of oil for the men to dip their arrows into. Thinking on that, she ordered small torches to be lit every few feet, so the men could light the arrows.

 

Once she thought she did all that she could, she asked Bardock, Turles, and Brolli to go about and see if anything else needed done. She was susceptible to mistakes with her limited experience in the area, and she wanted someone with familiarity in the area to try to do what they could. Brolli was just overall intelligent, and could possibly catch something that no one else had, and plus his mere presence among the common soldiers helped bolster their morale.

 

She noticed as she stood at the wall with the soaked defense force that the rain had lessened some more, allowing more visibility. It was no longer thundering and the wind had calmed to a low roar. She was drenched to the bone and her hair was plastered to her skull, but the chill in the air did not make it to her bones. Her blood was humming through her veins, for the adrenaline pumping through her warmed her. However scared she was, she was...excited.

 

She stilled as she realized that she was actually anticipating the fight with near fever-pitch excitement. The feeling...the chance to experience something that women hardly ever saw, hardly ever experienced in a way that a man saw it. The chance that she could use her skills and abilities in a way that she had never done before, and probably never would again. All the years of learning and disciplining herself for apparently no reason at all other than for fun actually had a point. It was almost like fate....

 

She had been destined to learn how to fight, to learn how to kill a man with a twist of her wrist. She had learned that all for “amusement” just for this very moment....

 

Bardock stunned her out of her thought process by running up to her and grabbing her shoulder. She blinked up at him as he panted, apparently having exerted himself to make it to her so quickly.

 

“Your highness, their army is not just the white beasts...one of the men brought some sort of optical instrument so we could see far into the distance. They have soldiers of all races...they look nearly like hired assassins! There seems not to be one single murderer out there who is of the same race!”

 

Bulma stared at him through the gloom. “From what you saw...how many of the men are the white beasts?”

 

He shrugged quickly. “I could not tell because they are intermingled amongst the others. Your highness...you may want to brace yourself, for we have taken an estimate of their numbers.”

 

Bulma frowned at him and what she thought of his grossly over exaggerated statement. Surely it was not that bad? She did not notice that she placed her hand on the rounded distention of her stomach. It was the only outward sign of any apprehension she felt.

 

“Your highness...we have maybe two thousand strong. The Saiya-jins from the station in space have not yet arrived...and are not expected to appear in time, either. What scouts have managed to make it back alive have reported that there are still men hidden in the trees...there are nearly ten thousand.”

 

Bulma felt her knees buckle. She caught herself against the parapet before she could fall, and Bardock stood there, nodding gravely when he saw her reaction.

 

“No,” she said, not believing it. Staring out into the dimness of the storm, she could see their fires burning and their numbers gathered into organized battalions. She could see them preparing advanced catapults, and she could also see the odd flying machines that could transport small groups at a time, the black smoke from their engines filling the air. She could not distinguish individual men from the distance she was at, but she had already discerned their numbers were far greater than theirs. However...she had never thought that they would be that vast....

 

Doomed rang through her ears. She looked around at the men, horror dawning on her that there was no way that they would be able to defeat numbers that immense. They were already at a disadvantage with their lack of technology and limited knowledge of their enemy. They'd had little preparation, and their King was missing. A Queen who had never fought a war before was leading them, and there was an unlimited possibility of what the opposite side's leader knew, had done, and had gained experience from....

 

Bardock took hold of her arm out of nowhere. She did not realize until he grasped her hand tightly in his that she had been trembling. He stared down at her hard, almost viciously, and said, “We still have hope, your majesty. As long as we can keep them out of the city, we have the advantage. We can hold up for months without any outside sources, for we have food and unlimited water. As long as we can keep them out of the city, we can survive. This city has never fallen, and these walls have never been broken. We must try.”

 

Bulma swallowed harshly as she nodded. He was right. If they fought with everything they had and kept them out of the city, then they would prevail. They just had to use brains instead of brawn, which the opposite side was obviously utilizing by their sheer numbers.

 

Well, Queen Bulma of the Saiya-jins had never been defeated in a battle of wits.

 

Except when it came to Vegeta. He was her only match...so that meant only one thing.

 

She would not be defeated.

 

Bardock stepped back when her hands fisted fiercely at her sides. Her eyes narrowed, and she whipped around to look back into the field to glare at the enemy. They shifted and moved, and in an odd way, it almost looked like they trembled.

 

“You are right, Bardock,” she said smartly. “Their numbers are greater by far, but they have underestimated who they are going against.”

 

Bardock saw the malicious smirk on her face and felt his hope soar. She turned towards him again and said with amusement in her voice before she walked away, “Besides, they have no idea how strong my resolve is when it comes to my husband. I want him back.”

 

 

 

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Bulma was waiting in the court behind the gates on her horse making sure the fighter cruisers were ready when the alarm sounded.

 

They were marching.

 

The loud horn echoed through the city, and suddenly everything was silent. It blew again, its gloomy resonance stilling everyone and what they were doing.

 

Her horse snorted and pawed at the muddied earth, probably feeling an odd thrill in the air around him. Beside her on their own horses were her lords, and surrounding her were two thousand men, their bows ready and their swords at their sides.

 

She heard the blast of another horn in the distance. Darker, deeper. Evil. She could almost feel the ground beneath her shudder from the movement of so many feet and the rolling of their war machines, and her horse whinnied and reared up slightly when he felt it also.

 

Only a moment passed and she heard it. With every stomp of the enemy's nearing feet, she heard their battle drone.

 

Hah! Hah! Hah!

 

The men all looked to her out of nowhere. Her horse was dancing nervously, but her horse was not the only one. She watched as the other horses in the courtyard stepped side to side anxiously, feeling something in the air that they could not.

 

The men were still looking to her. She realized that they wanted her to say something. This is what Bardock had wanted her to do in the first place, to rally her men and raise their morale by some prideful, powerful speech, instead of organizing and helping her troops. Her maneuvers had been unexpected, but she knew that they would help immeasurably.

 

Now was when she should make her address. Now was when she had to let her men know what they were fighting for, to let them know that they were not just fighting for land or for their homes, but for their very existence.

 

Just as she opened her mouth, a flaming ball of fire flew over their heads. The whistling blast tore through the air and rammed into several unfortunate houses in the middle of the city, causing them to explode upon impact. Her horse reared in fear, and she withdrew her sword from its sheath with a cry as even more spheres of fire flew through the air.

 

“Men! Today we are not just fighting for this city! We are fighting for this planet! We are fighting for Vegeta-sei! No matter what happens, we must fight! However big their army is, whatever weapons they have, we are better! We are stronger! We have the will to survive, and we shall!!”

 

A load, rapturous roar filled the air. Bulma watched with hope as hundreds upon hundreds of swords were thrust into the air, men shouting at the tops of their lungs as they ran to the battlements, their bows ready and their arrows tipped with oil.

 

Bulma dismounted and was almost immediately handed a large, beautiful made bow and a sleeve of arrows. She looked with shock at Bardock, who was also armed with something similar. She glanced around him, and saw that everyone else was armed as well.

 

“Your highness, you are not expected to fight. In fact, I am highly against it. However, I know what kind of woman you are. You want to fight for this planet just as much as any Saiya-jin man or woman.”

 

Bulma nodded, but she was still confused. Bardock was encouraging her to fight?

 

“You are going to be heavily guarded. The moment you are in any danger you are out of here, got it?”

 

Bulma could not help but smile as they all ran together to the walls. She would help fight for her people.

 

 

 

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“This should be easy, my lord.”

 

A white hand swirled blood red wine in a crystal glass around and around with an amused smirk on his face. His generals had been preparing for three days for this battle, and they would be triumphant.

 

Their numbers were greater by the thousands. They were more skilled and better equipped. They had superior weapons in every way, shape, and form. They could literally drop men off right into the middle of their pathetic city, and have the men fight from the inside out. Their battle cruisers could obliterate anything from the sky. They had rams to take down their weakling gate, and they could hurl massive balls of fire into the city and completely destroy it. They would scale their walls with their long ladders, and overtake the men instantly.

 

The other side had prepared little to none. They had hardly any men to fight for them, and they were ill equipped. Their morale was disgusting it was so low. Their Queen was as stupid as she was beautiful, and was so distraught by the loss of her husband that, from the reports of his spies, she hardly did anything at all and mostly stayed in her room to mourn. She could supposedly fight, but she showed no spirit at all. She was not even fighting back! How did they expect to win?

 

He surmised that this would all be done in about three hours. And by the end of those three measly hours, their city would be wiped off the face of the planet.

 

The three generals in the room were excused with a wave of his hand. They bowed and left quickly, wanting to be available for their troops when the conflict started.

 

Vegeta awoke from his torture-induced sleep by the agonizing sensation of sharp fingernails being dug into the knife wound on his thigh. It had never healed from the man who had captured him and brought him here to this frozen hell. The alien lord loved to constantly reopen it.

 

A chill made its way down his spine at the very presence of the white monster in front of him, but he kept his spine stiff with resolve. The bloody nails left his thigh and crept up to his face, where it was seized forcefully. The strength of the beast before him did not go unnoticed, for the pressure he was exerting on his skull was making him see blinding dots of white. This, however, did not stop him from staring the monster down with as much death in his eyes as he could muster.

 

“So very feisty and prideful you are,” the alien chuckled, releasing his hold on his face with a jerk. Vegeta snarled and spit at him, right in his face. He grinned victoriously, and almost welcomed the fist that was slammed into his tender, starved stomach.

 

“Disgusting monkey! After all I have done for you,” he said, his last few words cooed nauseatingly as his sharp, black nails grazed down his bruised and cut cheek. Vegeta wrenched his head away, not heeding the pain of the movement so he could just get away from the monster's vile touch.

 

A sick chuckle filled the chilled air as the alien stepped away. It was not far enough for Vegeta's liking however, for it was only about a foot away. He could not help but watch the being's tail flick back and forth, for he knew what kind of pain it could inflict.

 

“How can you not appreciate everything I have done for you, King Vegeta? What is torture when you are still alive, hmm? You have not given in once, not even during the most heinous of tortures. How do you do it? How can you scream so violently in the most terrible kind of pain, but still not say anything? How can you not open your mouth, say one little thing? Anything will do, Vegeta, honestly. You can stop all this pain, all this agony. Tell me, where did your wife learn how to fight?”

 

Vegeta growled at the question and kicked out with his legs, attempting to hit the creature. He moved away before the blow could be landed, and Vegeta panted from the exertion of moving even that little bit. However much they made him bleed, however much they made him starve, or even however much they deprived him of sleep, he would not break. He would fight until his last breath.

 

The sound of chains clinking together soon drifted off into nothingness as Vegeta's dangling body stilled. It was agony to move in any way when one was suspended in the air by such cruel chains, but if he got anything on his enemy, even a pathetic blow, it would mean the world to him.

 

The alien chuckled menacingly and shook his finger at him. Seconds later Vegeta felt nails being dug down deep into the flesh of his chest, and then they were dragged downwards into the soft skin of his stomach. He feared for a moment that he would rip open his belly and spill his entrails all over the floor, but thankfully he held back and left only deep, jagged welts.

 

He was left gasping in agony as the fiend pulled away. Oh gods, the pain. It burned so horribly...it felt like he had ripped off the skin of his chest and had only left sinew.

 

The demon's laughter made its way to his ears. “Oh, it shall be so wonderful, Vegeta. When I take over Tibernoa, it will be completely destroyed. And then, when nothing is left, I will find your wife. Can you picture the fear on her precious face? Fear for her planet, for her people, for her life. She thinks you are dead, Vegeta. Can you imagine what it is doing to her? Can you imagine the elation she will experience when I bring her before you? Oh, it will be my utter delight to slay you right before her eyes. How traumatic it will be for her. She will lose the will to exist, Vegeta.”

 

The last words were hissed into his ear. The beast's hands were gripping his head again, his nails digging into his skin and piercing it. Vegeta was completely helpless in his chains, and the only thing he could do was try to jerk away when the overlord flicked the side of his bloodied face with his tongue.

 

“Mmm...Saiya-jin flesh. Is Anausian any better? Perhaps I will find out soon....”

 

“No!” he screamed, somehow managing to pull away from the creature that held him captive. He cared not for himself and what torture he would have to endure when he slammed his knee into the monster in front of him, sending him sprawling onto the ice-slicked floor.

 

Vegeta kept his spine stiff when he saw the fury on the frozen freak's face.

 

“That was very stupid, Vegeta.”

 

He took his punishment with a bloody smile on his face.

 

 

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Author's Note: I, personally, think that this was an excellent chapter. Hopefully I will have the next one up soon! Please review and tell me what you think!!!