Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Price You Pay ❯ Chapter Thirty-Two ( Chapter 32 )

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The Price You Pay: Chapter Thirty-Two

Although Bulma may have been knocked unconscious for nearly an hour, that didn't mean she was completely unaware of the major political happenings around her. She did have the honor of coming to just in time to see Vegeta blast his father to oblivion.

How could he do something like that?

The cultural differences were astounding. Either Vegeta was a ruthless killer and she should get the hell away from him as soon as possible, or he genuinely cared what happened to her and saved her; in which case she was also frightened. Stranger yet was that although the other Saiya-jins seemed taken aback by the happenings of the throne room, none of them seemed truly surprised.

What kind of sick planet is this?

But, Bulma reminded herself, hadn't Vegeta's actions proven to her time and time again that Vegeta-sei was not a planet for the weak or the squeamish? Perhaps she'd just never really accepted that the people who had produced Goku were, in reality, so brutal.

Bulma was helplessly confused. The contact between the two of them earlier in the morning had left her rattled and not knowing what to expect. Then to be kidnapped and looked at like a piece of trash by hundreds of Saiya-jin nobles and Senators...

The door opened, and Bulma turned to greet her visitor, whatever species he may belong to.

“So we meet again, Bulma.” Zarbon bowed deeply and Bulma smiled back at him. He was the image of beauty and grace and, sadly enough, even in this dark time surrounding her, she couldn't help but be a little jealous. Something glittered amber in the dim light of the room as Zarbon came into view.

Talk about great eyes.

“So, uh, Zarbon wha—“

“What am I doing here?” Finishing her sentence wasn't all too surprising. She was beginning to get used to being interrupted by the alien men around her. Zarbon smirked, eerily resembling the Saiya-jin Prince recently turned King.

“Yes.” Bulma smiled coyly.

“What? You honestly think that I wouldn't just come to visit you because I find it pleasant?” He feigned being offended.

“Not if you didn't want Vegeta to usher you a death threat,” said Bulma flatly.

Zarbon's voice crackled as he stifled his laugh. “You couldn't be more right.”

Bulma turned away from where Zarbon was standing and laid down on the bed, facing the window. Suddenly, she felt cold.

“What happened today, Zarbon?” Bulma whispered. It was clear that whatever levity existed had completely dissipated at this point. It had only been a few days since she'd met Zarbon, and both of them knew their smiles were merely skin deep.

"What you witnessed was nothing more than a Saiya-jin tradition, brutal as it may be." He shook his head as if he himself was in disbelief. Bulma looked on at him unblinkingly, apparently waiting for him to continue. "You must understand, Bulma. Things are done quite differently on this planet. While on Earth you may have enjoyed peaceful shifts in power, Vegeta-sei does not. King Vegeta was going to kill you. He needed the political leverage."

"So, in other words," began Bulma, "Vegeta killed his father so he wouldn't lose his political advantage." Her voice was flat still, but the resentment was undeniable.

Zarbon smiled. "Not quite. Prince Vegeta prevented your death when he assumed the throne. He could have killed his father at any time. Though no doubt now was not the ideal time for Vegeta to become King. He's still several decades away from his prime."

“Zarbon,” started Bulma, “what ever happened to Vegeta's mother? Was she killed for some sort of political move too?” Her eyes were inquisitive but weary. “Vegeta mentioned her but…” She trailed off.

“You could say it had to do with politics, yes.” His eyes became hard and Bulma figured it must have been a subject few dared to breach. She decided to let it go.

Bulma gazed at Zarbon with a rather blank expression. Obviously she wasn't going to get any additional information about Vegeta's mother out of him.

She turned her thoughts back to Vegeta and what had transpired earlier in the throne room. She wasn't sure what to think about seeing Vegeta kill his father, but if he'd saved her in the process then maybe he deserved more credit than she was giving him.

"You said that Vegeta was several decades away from his prime. What does that mean?'" asked Bulma, abruptly changing the subject to avoid awkward thoughts. "He's pushing 30."

"Most Saiya-jins don't reach their optimum level of physical maturity and ability until their mid 60s or 70s in Standard Time." Zarbon's forehead crinkled as he fell silent, apparently in deep thought.

 

“I see.”

 

"Well, lovely lady, I'm glad you have a better understanding of the happenings of the palace now. But I will warn you: if Vegeta values your life enough to endanger the success of his empire and the up and coming war, that makes you a very valuable commodity for his enemies." He stood and smiled at her again but this time, sadly.

 

"No doubt His Highness will visit you later this evening. Do me a favor. Don't tell him I came here. He wouldn't take to that news well, as I'm sure you can imagine." Zarbon straightened his cape and leggings in a surprisingly feminine gesture.

Bulma couldn't help but picture him beaten to a bloody pulp by the all-so-considerate former Saiya-jin no Ouji. No, she definitely wouldn't tell Vegeta about this.

~~~~~~~<(((((|||)))))>~~~~~~~

Despite the casualty with which Vegeta had killed his father, he couldn't help but dwell upon the consequences of his actions. Vegeta-sei was now inevitably going to be at war, and not just with Dokar-sei, but with Freeza's empire as well.

The Ice-jin will be afraid now. The prophecy…

Bulma had to have something to do with it. There was no way that her arrival on Vegeta-sei at such a precarious time could merely have been the result of coincidence. Especially considering the fact that she was a member of a dead race and should have been exterminated nearly 30 years prior. It was baffling.

Vegeta?

It was the onna's voice. Bulma's voice. He'd felt her cry out to him previously while she was sleeping. The sound of her voice resounded as her mind briefly brushed his own and then faded. Something didn't quite strike him right.

 

The Saiya-jin no Ou couldn't believe what his father had done. He had to have known that Vegeta would have no choice but to kill him. He would do anything for Bulma—well, almost anything.

The Saiya-jin King let his mind wander as he made his way back to his quarters. He knew that undoubtedly Zarbon had visited his mate in the time he'd been gone—probably for the best too. Vegeta wasn't in the emotional state to deal with answering any of Bulma's more delicate questions after what had happened in the throne room. Sometimes Zarbon impressed him with how well he knew the new Saiya-jin no Ou.

Upon arriving at his door, Vegeta let his mental guard down in an attempt to read his mate's thoughts. She'd put up a decently strong mental barrier but some of her confusion still managed to seep through to him.

“Bulma…?” he asked almost timidly as he entered his quarters.

Not that I should have to enter my own chambers with caution.

Thought the Saiya-jin King with disdain. He didn't really mind her staying in his quarters, but dammit, he had a reputation to maintain.

“Hm…?” she mumbled as he quietly closed the door behind him and made his way toward the bed. Bulma was wrapped up in his comforter, tangled in his sheets.

Another night of tossing and turning.

Vegeta glanced over at the chair he'd slept in the previous night and groaned. Although it hadn't been as uncomfortable as he'd imagined, he wasn't thrilled at the prospect of spending another night away from his own bed. Bulma stirred on the bed beside him and Vegeta sat in the chair, leaning over and placing his elbows on his knees to rest his face in his hands.

He was the King. He wasn't at his prime. And he'd publicly claimed her as his mate. Not the wisest of political moves. Once word spread, which he was sure it already had, uniting the Saiya-jins would be difficult. Many warriors were already concerned about the war with Dokar-sei and now that their King had formed a rather strong and mysterious bond with an Earthling it was only a matter of time before the Ice-jin started a war as well.

Earth. It has something to do with Earth… Onna, why are you here?

Bulma opened her eyes and stared up at Vegeta. Her eyes were glowing silver as she looked at the new self-proclaimed King of Vegeta-sei. Sensing eyes upon him, Vegeta immediately sat up and looked at the woman lying in his bed. His eyes glowed a brilliant gold and Bulma smiled awkwardly.

“You know I can't answer that question, Vegeta no Ou.” She'd read his mind, and though the thought of being King had horrified him in a nauseating way, for some reason, hearing her call him by his formal title was reassuring.

“So you've learned about Saiya-jin custom,” said Vegeta with a smirk. Bulma's eyes widened as she realized she'd given away her new-found knowledge.

He could tell she was trying to hide Zarbon's visit from him. Not that he necessarily cared. Having an advisor come and speak with his mate, especially a trusted one, was probably wiser than leaving him to explain Saiya-jin politics. “I know that Zarbon visited, onna. His scent is all over the room,” he said the words casually, hoping to read her reaction. He couldn't help but notice the relieved look on Bulma's face.

“He thought you'd be angry with him,” Bulma replied.

“He should. But know this, onna: never try to keep secrets from me in the future.” Vegeta's eyes flashed a more brilliant gold and then faded as he continued to stare at her intensely.

“Yes, Vegeta no Ou,” Bulma said as if she'd just been chastised by a parent and looked away.

“War is not the time for secrets. Especially between mates.” Why was he explaining himself? He stood and slowly walked toward his bed, eventually sitting next to Bulma and resting his back against the headboard. After a few moments of silence, there was a light pressure on Vegeta's right shoulder, and he looked down to see Bulma resting her head there.

Her head was a familiar weight to him and suddenly Vegeta could remember dozens of different occasions where this strange creature had done the exact same thing. They were laying in a bed together surrounded by black sheets, Bulma resting her head contentedly on her lover's shoulder, the mark on her upper back pulsing alluringly in the darkness. Where were these persistent thoughts coming from?

A few strands of hair had, again, fallen across Bulma's face and Vegeta mused that they must solely exist to vex him. Not that the thought prevented him from gently tucking the bangs behind Bulma's ear. Bulma smiled contentedly at the contact and sighed as she wrapped her free arm around Vegeta's stomach, pulling herself closer to the former Saiya-jin Prince. Still not accustomed to the physical contact, Vegeta stiffened and removed his hand from Bulma's face.

“It's called a hug, Vegeta,” said Bulma without removing her head from his shoulder or even opening her eyes. “It's a human form of affection.”

“I know what a hug is,” responded Vegeta, sounding a bit insulted.

“Then you should know it's even better if the other person hugs back,” she said, taking her head off of his shoulder and looking up at him. Her eyes were still glowing and Vegeta smiled inwardly at her audacity. She was so damn assertive. And for some reason, it pleased him that he let her get away with it.

Lost in his thoughts, Vegeta cupped Bulma's chin and lightly brushed her lips across his own. He felt a spark of energy as he had the first time he'd kissed her but this time she had fewer mental walls in place and for an instant he could have sworn he was on Chikyuu gazing at the stars. His eyes widened as he pulled away and didn't know what to make of the strange vision.

“It's you. It has to have something to do with you,” Vegeta whispered to Bulma. She looked at him with an inquisitive gaze and waited for him to continue. “You're the one who will help me fulfill the prophecy.”

The Legendary…

“I don't know, Vegeta no Ou,” she said with true uncertainty. Her voice seemed to quiver for an instant and Vegeta noticed she was shivering. Apparently the kiss had sparked some strange consequences in her as well.

“You no longer have to use my formal title, onna,” said Vegeta, trying to break the tense and confused atmosphere surrounding the both of them. “At least not while solely in my presence. I've told you this before,” he added. His accent was starting to become more noticeable. It tended to do that whenever he was nervous or emotional. Not that Vegeta could ever truly be called 'emotional.' It had happened only a few times before on Earth.

“Vegeta, why is it that you and your men rarely speak your native tongue?” asked Bulma with curiosity.

“Diplomats are taught to speak Standard at a very young age. Only Standard is spoken within the confines of the palace,” he began. “The first language we encounter after birth is the native tongue of Vegeta-sei, but after a few years, children of noble families are taught Standard, the language we are speaking right now.”

“So is that one of the reasons why Radditz was confused when he found me in the forest? Because I spoke Standard so fluently?” asked Bulma, as if coming to epiphany.

“Yes. Well, that and the rather infamous burn mark across your shoulder blades. Why do you ask?” He ran his fingers lightly across her back. The mark began to glow and Vegeta could see its gentle aqua light through her shirt. Bulma hissed but it was so similar to a moan, Vegeta didn't know what to make of it.

“There's only one thing I've ever heard spoken in your native tongue. And believe it or not, you're the one that said it to me. Of course, it was in a different reality or existence, or whatever you want to call where I was before I mysteriously ended up here,” she said with obvious chagrin.

“Really?” It was now Vegeta's turn to be inquisitive. “What did I say?” The question had been delayed and was asked with apprehension.

“Something along the lines of, `Rash'kin a sonat su ma. Skar shinta mun a kin'moshan…' But I can't be sure if that's an accurate—“

The look on Vegeta's face was enough to let Bulma know that she'd said enough. He'd paled considerably after the moment she'd said only the first word but that didn't even compare to the look of pure nauseated horror he possessed now.

“Onna, are those the words you've often heard in your dreams?” he asked with barely concealed panic in his voice.

“Yes. At least they permeate my thoughts whenever I see you in my dreams,” she responded, now afraid of where their conversation was going.

“Soon. It's going to happen very, very soon.”