Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The King and Queen Diaries ❯ Ashigachinitsukanai ( Chapter 17 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Author's Note: HEY EVERYONE!!!! No, I didn't DIE...like a lot of you thought I did...I do believe I posted an author's note on my last chapter that I was going into the NAVY...so yeah BOOTCAMP...but now I'm out! YAY! So yay I'm officially a United States Sailor thank you very much. Lol, but anyhow, I'm sorry you guys about not posting in so long, yes I will finish this story eventually. And I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes, I don't have a spell check because I actually typed this in yahoo email lol...but a large majority of this chapter was typed before I left 3 months ago in August, and I really didn't make any changes. I am going to have to reaquaint myself to this story...again...lol. But I just wanted to let y'all know I'm not dead! Enjoy and PLEASE let me know what you think!!!!




Hours passed.

No one heard anything from the woman inside the royal suite, and everyone was too afraid to say anything to her.

Inside the rooms, the woman alternated between weeping, furious anger, and despair. She had left the meeting fighting a lump in her throat that was nearly asphyxiating her, and the moment she had slammed the door behind her, she had collapsed upon the thick, cream colored carpeting, and sobbed openly into her hands. Pain shot through her tiny frame as she rocked back and forth, wailing into the carpet and pounding and clawing the soft cushion beneath her with her fists. She held her tummy in both arms, uncontrollably sobbing, feeling that there was no more point to life, not now that Vegeta was gone.

And then the anger began to build. The only thing she could think of was how unfair and unjust it was. How much should she sacrifice before the gods were happy? How much more did she have to suffer before she made everyone happy? Was she going to have to give up her babies? Her life?

Then she just began to stare ahead of her, seeing nothing. The world would begin to blur from staring so long, and then she would blink and begin the process all over again.

She stayed this way until there was a timid knock on the door, seven hours later.

She did not get up to answer the door. She just continued to stare ahead of her, into the wainscoting on the wall.

Several wary men stood at the door, Brolli, Turles, and Bardock at the front, several guards in the back. Brolli entered the room and closed the door behind him. This moment had been discussed thoroughly between the three men, and Brolli was the one who they decided should go first because of his close personal relationship with her Majesty.

He acted as if nothing was wrong as he strolled into the room. He did so quietly, however, and stood before her only a moment before he sat next to her on the bed. The bed dipped beneath his weight, and she unconsciously leaned against him. He smiled faintly and put his arm around her.

“Your Highness, are you hungry?”

She blinked a few times, and then shook her head. She went to speak, but had to clear her throat in order to talk. He could not help but think that even that simple gesture was elegant.

“I fear eating, Brolli. My stomach and babies yearn for food, but the thought repels me.”

He rubbed her arm gently. “I shall bring you some ponamin drink then. I know that you enjoy that. Perhaps some soup and crackers?”

She smiled, but he could tell it was fake. “That sounds lovely, Brolli. But I wish to be alone. Is there anything else that you need me for?”

He squeezed her against him carefully before he released her and stood, his amazing height blocking out what light had been entering through the windows.

“Yes, your Highness, there is actually.”

She lifted her head at the change of tone in his voice. His body was blocking the setting sun, and he looked like he was glowing. Deliriously she thought of him as an angel. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head, dispelling any fears she may have had.
”No, of course not, your Majesty. However, there is a young gentleman here, stating that he has traveled from Versai just to see you. He says that he has been searching for you for a very long time.”

Bulma stood, confused. Hope surged through her, thoughts of Kakarott and Chichi, or maybe an escort for Nana, anything. “Who? Did he give his name?”

She moved closer to him, her hands folded together over her heart, thoughts racing through her head.

“He said his name was Lord Yamcha.”

Her eyes widened and her hands came to her face, covering her cheeks. “Yamcha? How in the world--? Oh gods, Yamcha!”

She flew out the door, barely even taking in the tall man surrounded by guards before she threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Yamcha! How did you get here? How did you know how to find me? I have so many questions, so much–”

“Shh, your Highness,” he said, squeezing her against him possessively. “All shall be answered in due time.”

Tears immediately sprung to her eyes, thoughts of memories past, present, and future. “Yamcha, so much has happened, so much I need to tell you. Vegeta...”

He shushed her again, and then looked down at her. He could tell she was looking at his face. He fought the urge to snarl, but instead he held her against him. As a peer, he held more authority than the guards; however, the one man above him was the Queen’s advisor, a huge man who was gazing at him suspiciously, as if he did not trust him. Almost as if on queue, the man opened his mouth.

“Your Highness, you know this man? Does he have your permission to have palace access?”

Bulma pulled away from the gentleman, but did not stray far. “Of course. Let it be known that Lord Yamcha has the same rights and responsibilities as Lord Brolli. He is a peer of Vegeta-sei and it is his right.”

All men nodded. Bulma dismissed them all, but Brolli stayed behind reluctantly. “I shall...retrieve your food for you, your Majesty,” he said stiffly, bowing at the waist with his hand over his heart. Bulma felt an odd wave come off him, but she did not voice anything. Instead she nodded and turned to Yamcha, leading him into her private suite, where very few men were allowed to venture forth.



**********


“Vegeta is dead.”

Joy soared through his heart, but instead, he nodded solemnly. As nothing more than a spy, he was privy to little information and he had not known that the King was dead. However, the Queen was proving to be a fount of all kinds of things he needed to know.

“I am...so very, very sorry, your Highness. Vegeta was a great King; he brought this planet back to prosperity in a matter of months. He shall be missed greatly.”

She was sitting in an overstuffed chair in front of the fire, her legs curled beneath her and her thick petticoats spilling over the edge. In her position, you could barely tell she was with child. But even so, she was still magnificently beautiful. Even in all her sorrow and agony, her broken heart plain in her huge, expressive blue eyes, she was beyond heavenly. He wanted to take the hand away that covered her mouth and was trying to hold back her sobs, and kiss her swollen lips. He wanted to lick her tears away that dripped down her cheeks. He wanted–
“Yamcha, I am sure you have noticed that I am with child.”

He swallowed, trying to think of what to say next. “Yes, your Highness, I have noticed. How far along are you?”

Another interesting tidbit of information that would work wonderfully against the Queen. I must inform Lord Frieza immediately.

“I would estimate six months. I have lost track of time. The children can be born at any time between nine to twelve months. We have no idea of the gestation period.”

She is with twins? Interesting...

He tried to look concerned, because in all honesty he could care very little about the brats. He stood from his seat next to her beside the fire, and knelt close to her, watching her face and every expression. He forced love and tenderness into his black eyes, and gently, very gently, placed his hand over hers on her protruding stomach.

Her expression did not change. He thanked the gods she did not pull away. “Your Majesty–”

“Please, Yamcha, stop the formalities. You used to call me Bulma.”

He smiled, almost losing the fight to smirk. “Of course...Bulma.” He closed his eyes, and tried to look as caring as possible. “Bulma...you know I have been there for you in the past. I have traveled across the sea to find you. I hope...with all my heart...that you know I will be there for you now, and in the future, for both you, and your children.”

Her lower lip trembled. He could feel her vulnerability pouring off her in waves. He wondered silently how far he could go, but he did not want to push his luck, or make her feel uneasy. He needed to earn her trust implicitly, and if he had to, he would take forever to insure that everything turned out the way he wanted it to be. In other words...perfect.

“Yamcha,” she breathed, tears pouring unceasingly down her cheeks. She took her free hand and unconsciously traced her fingers over the scars on his face.

He fought the urge to jerk back and slam his fist into her face. You bitch! You did this to my beautiful face! I will kill you for this...I promise you...

“What...what happened to you, Yamcha?”

He pulled away, hoping to show her his “vulnerable” side as he stood and faced away from her. He covered his face with his hand, and then straightened stiffly.

“I was attacked when I was trying to reach you. One of those white bastards...right before I left to cross the sea in a measly, barely floating vessel, we were ambushed.” He paused, and then smirked, happy she was not able to see him. “My wife...who was with child as well...she was taken from me.”

He heard her gasp, and in the next moment, he felt her arms come around him from behind. The first thing he felt was her full breasts press against him. He struggled to contain his arousal and hatred at the same time.

“Yamcha, I am so sorry. Did you love her?”

He tried to pull away from her again, but she held him fast. He bowed his head. “Yes. I loved her greatly. We were married shortly after the plague. She...she would have been a wonderful mother.”

She was quiet for some time. “What...what happened?”

He faked a sob, and he felt her squeeze him tighter. “She tried to save me. She threw herself at the monster, and he obliterated her with their shetaki. She had no chance.”

“Shetaki? That is the name of their weapon? How do you know that name?”

Panic grasped his insides. He fought to come up with something quickly. “I had been watching the lizards at one point, and I observed them pointing to their weapons and saying the name repeatedly. I can only assume that is what they call them.”

She nodded against his back, and he almost sagged with relief. That was too close.

“It seems that both of us have suffered great tragedy. I will always, always...miss Vegeta, for I loved him more than my own life. But with his sacrifice, I have an even greater will to fight for our planet. Vegeta-sei shall never give in to an ignorant, vile dictator. I shall carry on, and so shall Vegeta’s children.”

She moved away from him, and he turned to watch her caress her belly as if the children were right there in her arms. She sickened him to no end, but he still kept his emotions in check.

“Of course you will, Bulma. And so shall I. I shall be here for you until the end. You...you are all I have to live for now.”

He almost couldn’t believe how gullible the woman was as she smiled faintly. “Thank you, Yamcha.”


**********


“We are leaving by this afternoon. We need to get to Versai as soon as possible. As it is, with only ships and no air cruisers, it will take two weeks to reach. We can only hope that nothing will happen in the meantime, and also that we will not get attacked while we are vulnerable out at sea.”

Everyone nodded around the table, including Lord Haschel. She could tell that he was saddened, and she planned on meeting with him before they left.

Supplies were quickly stocked, the men boarded, the sails unfurled. They were just waiting for the last few to board.

Queen Bulma took the old, but still strong hands of Lord Haschel into her own, a gentle smile on her face as they stood on the dock. Red and white oscals were squawking overheard, some even walking around and trying to pick up some scraps. The wind was perfect, not too harsh and not too light. A few stray tendrils escaped the knot on the nape of her neck, and Lord Haschel tucked one behind her ear.

“I shall miss you, my dear.”

Tears wanted to come to her eyes, but she stayed strong. “Thank you, Lord Haschel, for all that you have done for me and my men. If it were not for you and your city, we would have never made it. I shall always treasure your friendship, and I hope to see you again in the future.”

He nodded, and she squeezed his hand one last time before she turned away, taking the proffered arm of Lord Yamcha. She did not notice Lord Brolli seething only a few feet away.


**********


“You better watch it, Brolli. The Queen is bound to notice your jealousy, and it will not please her.”

He growled at Turles as they all lounged in their hammocks, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the ocean and the ship. “Shut up. You do not understand. There is something...something about Lord Yamcha that makes me uneasy, and apparently I am the only person who sees it.”

Bardock frowned. “He was with her during her first years here on Vegeta-sei, Brolli. She needed a friend, and he crossed the sea to find her. It was very gallant of him.”

Brolli snorted. “He appeared out of nowhere. And does no one find it suspicious that the so called ‘vessel’ this man sailed on was non-existent? I saw nothing in the harbor.”

“He could have gone to another port, Brolli. Or someone could have stolen it or could have been using it. Your suspicions are not good enough to lay claim.”

Brolli crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Whatever. I am still going to watch his ass.”

The other two men chuckled.


**********


The two weeks they were out at sea were both slow and fast at the same time. During her time on the ship, she became reacquainted with Yamcha quickly and spent a majority of her time with him. On occasion she would meet with Brolli, Turles, and Bardock, just to discuss some matters of what was going to be done. Thankfully the whole trip was uneventful, and not once did they meet any enemies.

She was so happy to be on land once the ships dropped anchor off shore and they rowed to land. They had not gone to an actual port for safety reasons; instead they were planning on traveling to a couple cities before they made it to Versai.

Bulma watched serenely as the men aided the horses to shore, and she found it slightly amusing to see the poor things trying to swim. Thinking of horses brought back the memories of Uukusuki and Warui back in Versai, and she hoped they were safe.

Yamcha stood off at a slight distance, watching the Queen as she gave some orders to be ready to leave soon. They were actually abandoning the ships, because they needed as many men as they could get. They were battening down everything for the hopes that the ships would be ok if they ever needed to come back. In his opinion he hoped he never had to be on one again. The whole trip he had been miserable and had vomited constantly. Meanwhile, her highness had been the picture of health itself.

Speaking of health, he smirked. She was such a mental wreck. Outside she seemed fine, but he had heard her every night crying, saying Vegeta over and over again. She would speak to herself and sob about her babies not having a father and being all alone.

It made him feel good to see the bitch suffering. Once upon a time he had loved her, but after what she had done to his face and how she had broken his body, he despised her. He had sacrificed for her so much, and in return she had loved Vegeta. She was nothing but a whore, a typical woman who wanted the best for herself, caring not for others.

He would still have her one day...but she would also die.


**********


They began the many mile trip to the closest town, Silata. It would take a few days to get there, depending on the weather and the endurance of the men. Bulma knew she could push them easily, but she began worrying about herself as the days progressed and she became increasingly tired and weak. She was eating and drinking plenty, although it had taken her a while to because of her depression, but after seeing how concerned Brolli had been it had convinced her to eat.

She felt herself sway in her saddle, and she caught herself just before she fell. She almost panicked, because she did not know what was going on. She felt ill, like she wanted to throw up, and so exhausted that she felt like she could sleep for days. Almost immediately Brolli rode up beside her.

She looked at him, and instantly his arms came around her. She had not realized that she had been slipping from her saddle and her eyes rolling back into her head, and in the next moment she was sitting across his lap. She felt him expertly maneuver the horse with his powerful legs as his arms held her steady.

“Your Highness,” he said, panic laced through his voice. He brushed hair from her face to get a better look at her, and noticed with horror the bags under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks. He could hear other men coming around him, and distantly heard Bardock call a halt to the one thousand man procession.

Immediately Turles was taking her from him and camp was being set. Brolli dismounted quickly and tossed his reins to a young man who could be no older than sixteen. The Queen’s tent was thrown up within minutes, and Brolli followed Turles into the tent to see to the monarch.

Turles laid her down gently on the makeshift cot, the three men crowding

“Your Highness, you look ill. Why have you not informed us? You are further along in your pregnancy, a critical part to your health and the development of the heirs. They are going to drain your energy much more than they did when you were first within the early stages. You cannot push yourself and the men like you did before.”

She opened her eyes, looking weak and haggard. She had not bathed in days, and neither had the men. Thankfully she did not smell, but she knew a bath would perk her up somewhat. She smiled benignly.

“Boys, I know that I cannot do as I have been doing. But what is one life compared to billions?” she tried to justify herself. She had just realized her state only moments ago.

Instantly she was scolded by Brolli. “Your Highness, you know that we would all give our lives for you in a second if it needed to be done. But we need you to protect Vegeta-sei, else all is lost. No one will follow anyone but you, and there would be no organization and complete rebellion.”

The men observed the wilted flower. She was still holding Bardock’s hand, but very weakly. “What do you need, your Highness?”

She opened her eyes, and bizarrely she felt tears gather there. The men looked taken aback, but instantly they were crowded closer, even Turles. They all shushed her and stroked her hair like she was a hurt animal. She was thankful and disgusted at the same time.

“Please,” she begged pathetically, the tears falling down her flushed cheeks, “do not pity me. I do not want it. I...I need to be strong, and by pushing myself and staying distant...it is the only way–the only way I can keep him from my mind.”

The men pulled back slightly just before the tent flap flew back and Lord Yamcha entered with a distinguished and annoying flourish. He looked so haughty that Brolli growled, causing a frown to crease the tired complexion of the Queen. She patted him with her free hand, and then sat up slowly, feeling slightly dizzy for a moment.

“Your Majesty, what has happened? Do you need anything?”

She warded him off with a wave of the hand Bardock had released the moment Yamcha had entered. “I just need a moment. The riding, you see...it has gotten to me. I just need to rest.”

“I do not see any reason as to why you are even riding, your Highness. You should have your own vehicle built, carried on the shoulders of the men. You are too weak to be doing such harsh activities.”

He snapped his fingers, and all occupants of the tent looked slightly revolted as two guards filed in. “Her Majesty will require some sort of vehicle built that can transport her and be carried by the men.” When the men just stared at him, he shouted, “Now!”

Bulma halted them. “No, it will not be necessary. I will continue to ride, and if at any point I am unable, then I will find some other aid, but I will not use my own men as slaves to transport me. There are better devised ways, Yamcha. But thank you for the kindness anyhow.” She did not add that she was slightly annoyed at him ordering her men around.

He looked insulted, but then quickly recovered. “Of course, your Highness. Do you need food or drink?”

Brolli wanted to punch the little suck up in the face. The other two men looked oddly suspicious as well.

“No, I am fine, Yamcha. If I have need of you I will let you know. Right now I need to rest.”

He nodded, looked at the other men in the tent, looked like he was going to open his mouth, thought better of it, bowed and left.

There seemed like there could be nothing better to do than to let her rest and eat. The men made sure she got everything she needed and let her sleep the few hours they could afford. The other men found the opportunity to also rest, eat, and bathe by the nearby creek they found. The amount of water available was little more than a trickle, but it was better than nothing.

Brolli stayed by his Queen's side while she slept. He watched her, watched her breathe and move around as if she were somehow disturbed. He felt warmth flow through him at the sight of her, not only because of how...sad...she looked, but for other reasons that he could not explain. Her cheeks were hollow and sunken, and her color was entirely too pale. Her hair was lank and dull, and the military uniform that she had worn during the battle only a few weeks before was covered in dirt and dust from the trail. He shivered at the sight of the hole where the highly-advanced arrow had penetrated through the so-called "indestructable" armor, and had almost killed his Queen.

Without thinking, he laid his hand over the hole, almost over her heart. He did not think of the placement of his hand being on her breast until a few moments later, at which he immediately jerked his hand away, curiously blushing. His face flamed even brighter thinking that he was a grown man with a dead wife and children, and that he had blushed at the thought of touching a woman.

He knew then that at some point his feelings had changed for her from being a friend, to wanting something more. Perhaps it was seeing her so extremely vulnerable and him being in the same state. The simularities of their situations seemed to bring them together, and yet he felt ashamed of the way he was feeling. She was his Queen, and while he technically could ask for her hand now that she had raised his position from that of pauper to a peer, he felt disgusted that he would feel any other way than that which was proper.

He stood and looked down at her. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look upon her. He fisted his hands at his sides. Turles and Bardock had told him stories about how King Vegeta had nearly worshipped his wife. He could not blame his slain King for it either. She was perfect...and he would never have her.

He cursed himself and the feelings he felt toward her. He loved her...and if he was not careful, it would destroy them both.