Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Price You Pay ❯ Chapter Twenty-Three ( Chapter 23 )

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The Price You Pay: Chapter Twenty-Three

Saiya-jins...

The pounding of Bulma's heart sounded like a drum in her ears as she stared at the imposing figure. The figure who, by all rights, shouldn't exist. The Saiya-jins had been wiped out years ago; the whole planet destroyed. But if that were true, how was it that there was a living, breathing Saiya-jin, a rather frightening one at that, standing before her and smirking?

"Really, onna, how is it that you came to be in this part of the royal forest? You do know what the penalty is for slaves found out here, don't you?" His voice violence incarnate, and it scared her out of her wits. Bulma's facial expression must have given her away. The Saiya-jin's smirk deepened. The pounding of her heart returned to her ears and she could almost feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

"Why so frightened, little one?" cooed the Saiya-jin mockingly as he uncrossed his massive arms. He flexed one of his hands. It was a hand that looked like it could turn bone into fine powder. "I promise this will be painless."

Bulma had heard enough. Before she knew what she was doing, she ran for the edge of the pool and dove in, straight to the bottom of the clear water, and began to swim with all her might. It didn't matter that the Saiya-jin could remove her with little effort, she only knew that she had to escape. There was no way in hell she was going down without a fight.

There was a loud splash and Bulma found herself out of the water, coughing, and lying painfully on the sharp pebbles and rocks around the pool edge. The sting of the cold air sent shivers down Bulma's body as she rubbed her sore, tingling right arm. It was the arm the Saiya-jin used to forcefully remove her from the safety of the water.

"I admire your courage, little onna," said the Saiya-jin in what seemed like a sincere voice. Well, as sincere as it could be coming from a soaking wet, seven foot tall warrior with a tail. His voice wasn't as gruff as it had been earlier, but amused.

Bulma glanced at him sideways in an anxious manner. The Saiya-jin began to laugh. This time, the sound wasn't as menacing, but instead reverberated in his chest, a deep rumble. If it had come from anyone but a giant, trained killer, Bulma might have smiled, but as things were, she could only stare at him blankly. The cold was starting to get to her and her teeth chattered.

What am I doing here? This is insanity, thought Bulma as shivering overwhelmed her.

"Rather thin blooded aren't you, little onna?" commented the Saiya-jin with a hint of concern. Bulma couldn't figure him out. One moment he was threatening to kill her and then the next he was feigning concern. Did all Saiya-jins enjoy playing with their prey? Frankly, she thought it was one of their more annoying heritable personality traits.

Lost in her thoughts, Bulma wasn't expecting the sudden wave of warm energy being omitted from the burly Saiya-jin beside her. Turning her head slowly, Bulma gazed at the Saiya-jin and the faint aura that now surrounded the both of them. Her eyebrows knitted together. There was something familiar about him. He had long hair that flowed in spikes past his waist, and brown, angular eyes set below dark, bushy eyebrows. His cheekbones were high and strong and there was something about his nose which just set his face perfectly. He was attractive, in a caveman sort of way, Bulma supposed. All Saiya-jins seemed to carry that heritable trait as well.

"You're staring, onna. Honestly, am I that frightening?" He seemed to be teasing, but Bulma could still sense some sort of pent up aggression behind his words.

"Sorry." That was all she could get out and it was timid and wavering at that. She started to relax. There were just certain things she couldn't control, and being held captive by a Saiya-jin, qualified as one of them. She began to shiver again. The thin fabric of the PJ's she was wearing was still damp and did little to keep in any body heat despite the Saiya-jin's more than confusing attempt at warming her.

"Why don't you take off that ridiculously thin robe you're wearing, onna? It's only contributing to your shivering. If it's still wet, take it off so it can dry." The Saiya-jin interrupted her reverie. He had a good point, and although Bulma still couldn't figure out how his malice turned to concern so quickly, she decided to take his advice. Peeling off the soggy cotton fabric, Bulma cringed as her skin was exposed to the air. The mark on her back was still sore and temperature changes caused it to sting much like a tattoo.

That's right. My mark...

The Saiya-jin sitting next to her hissed as he suddenly took in 10 gallons of air through his teeth.

"I thought you bore a mark, little one, but the House of Vegeta-sei?" The Saiya-jin's words had become coarse again and his eyebrows were now knitted together.

Bulma looked at him as if contemplating what to say. "How could you tell I had a mark?" she asked after a few moments.

"That ridiculously thin garment you were wearing became transparent when you dove into the water. I could see the black quite clearly though not enough to make out which symbol you possessed." His voice was distanced, monotone. It became clear to her that he was keeping a physical distance of at least five feet, even when he was warming her with his ki.

"Ah, so that's why you didn't harm me," muttered Bulma under her breath. Guess Vegeta's history lessons were useful after all.

"I am not permitted to harm mated partners especially those bearing the sacred mark. It is a mark of nobility." He seemed to be regurgitation memorized information, some sort of code he had to follow.

Wait, did he say that my mark was black?

Bulma was confused. Wasn't it aqua earlier that week? Earlier that day? What was going on? Where was she? Why was all of this happening?

"Where is this place?" asked Bulma absently.

"I already told you, we're in the royal gardens," repeated the Saiya-jin in slight irritation. "Judging by your mark, you should know this already. Ye gods, I had no idea that the King had taken a..." He trailed off.

"Yes, yes. But on what planet are we?" asked Bulma impatiently. The Saiya-jin gave her an incredulous look. Bulma couldn't blame him.

"Why Vegeta-sei, of course. Capital of the Saiya-jin Empire." He stated it with pride but confusion. She must have seemed like a lunatic to him.

"Thank you," replied Bulma in shock. Everything around her started to become fuzzy.

The Saiya-jin barely had enough time to catch her as she collapsed, finally giving into her confusion and the bliss of unconsciousness.

 

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"You found her where?" An angry, familiar voice crept out of the darkness.

"In the gardens. She was quite aways out, sire. I could think of no other place to take her but here," came another, respectful, familiar voice.

"Who is she? Did she bare any other identification other than the... the..." The voice trailed off. He seemed ashamed, intimidated, and offended by the word he couldn't quite manage to speak.

"No, nothing other than the strange garments she was wearing. They couldn't have been distributed on Vegeta-sei." His voice was factual, military.

"'Princess'... do you suppose she really is one? It's written all over her clothing." There was a shuffling noise and Bulma could only assume that the voice was gesturing towards some unknown item.

Wait a second, Princess? Those are my favorite pajama bottoms!

Bulma started to shift around in the bed, trying to force her body to revive. But she did not have the energy to pull herself from the darkness fogging up the world around her. She whimpered.

There was more shuffling as both men turned in her direction.

"She spoke with the authority of royalty, sire. I believe it is possible." The voice seemed distracted.

"I just don't understand how it could be... how she could bear it... after so many years. It has been so long since a member of the House of Vegeta-sei has..." He trailed off. "I need to know everything. Everything. Every detail about her. I want to be the first one to speak to her when she regains consciousness, do you understand?" The voice was demanding and harsh as he spoke to the other man.

"Yes, sire," responded the other Saiya-jin.

He must be the one from the lake, thought Bulma as she tried to prevent herself from slipping back into the black oblivion that was sleep.

"She's regaining consciousness." There were footsteps approaching her bed and Bulma whimpered some more. "Rather beautiful, isn't she?" asked the voice standing beside her as he gently removed a stray strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. The aura was familiar to her. More than familiar. "Who are you?" His voice was breathy and rough.

"Vegeta...." His name was all she managed before the comfort of an exhausted sleep overtook her once again.