Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unfaithful ❯ Part Two: 6 ( Chapter 6 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

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................................................................ ...................Rhapsody~*



________________________~* Part Two*~: Temptations
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"What do you think, m'lady?"

Bulma glanced up from her painting-- still just a faint sketch of the crashing waves of Vejitasei's ocean, but an indicator of Bulma's skill nonetheless-- and studied the two wraps her handmaiden held up.

"Oh, Nataliah, I don't know!" Bulma set down her charcoal pencils and moved reluctantly away from the canvas. The other woman held up two similar wraps-- one a warm rose, the exact same color as the human queen's flushed cheeks, and the other a sheer white that resembled the snow that most Saiyans would never see. Both secured at each shoulder, thank Kami, and fell to around the ankles with some extra length in the back. Bulma shrugged and gestured to the snow-colored wrap. "To remind everyone of where I come from."

Nataliah nodded and hung the other wrap back in the closet. "I was hoping that you would choose this one," she confided, admiring the delicate garment. "It's beautiful."

"Beauty is as beauty does," Bulma dismissed.

Nataliah's brows furrowed at her unexcited tone of voice. "Do you not want to go?"

"Not really," Bulma confessed, looking down at her feet. "You know how Yamcha gets."

Nataliah avered her eyes. She had witnessed firsthand the adverse effects that liquor and loud music had on Earth's king. It was never pretty.

"Yes, but surely, since you are here to represent--"

"No," Bulma interuppted. "That will only make it worse." Rather than dwell on the inevitable, Bulma began stepping out of her plainer clothing. "If you would help me dress, please?"

"Of course," Nataliah consented, smoothing out the white garment. "How would you like me to dress your hair, m'lady?"

Bulma sighed and stared down at her half-naked body. Thinking of what was to come made her sick to her stomach. "It hardly matters," she responded dully. "Whatever you wish to do."

After all, nobody would be looking at her hair.
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Yamcha was impatiently awaiting her when she emerged out of their room with Nataliah close behind her. He was dressed simply in elegant Saiyan armor, which, in Bulma's eyes, looked far too bulky on the human man's lean, almost inexistent muscles.

Her outfit, however, was a winner if the expression on her husband's face was to be considered. The frosty white wrap was slightly transluscent; sheer enough to hint at the outline of her bust but nothing more. Nataliah had applied some barely-there shimmer to Bulma's shoulders and collarbone, as well as some on her face, which had been kept clean with the exception of a natural-looking bit on her lips and around her sky blue eyes. Her hair was half-up and half-down (an almost scandalous hairstyle back on Earth) and delicate silver and diamond-encrusted jewelry completed the look.

"You've done well this time around, Nataliah," Yamcha commented stiffly, unsuccessfully trying to mask his arousal. Then, without warning, he pulled Bulma to him with a greedy grin. "We make an excellent pair, don't you think?"

Rather than wait for her answer, Earth's king trudged forward in the direction of the throne room, dragging Bulma along beside him.
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The memory of the last real party that Bulma had attended was not one that she thought of often, but it was no less poignant than any other she possessed.

The night of the party, she changed from her hoity-toity white dinner gown to a scarlet dress with black lace trim. Her mother would have a nosebleed if she got a good look at the low neckline, scandalous color, and flashy accessories. She left her hair half-down and lined her eyes with kohl that she had had Nataliah pick up from a merchant in the open-market a few days before.

She examined her reflection, then snuck out of the silent house, clutching her black handbag to her chest. She was off to her friend Lucinda's favorite nightclub. It was known to a select few young people as an escape from everyday life and the rules that restricted them. It wasn't a public place, of course-- it was strictly an underground affair. Bulma knew that if her mother found out that she was going 'slumming' then she would have been severely punished, so she had arranged for Lucinda to pick her up.

When they finally arrived, Bulma let loose a sigh of relief and visibly relaxed.

"You're safe now," Lucinda assured her. She was wearing a yellow dress and a bit too much rouge. Her black hair was also half-down-- even the unconventionally bold Lucinda wouldn't stoop so low as it let it loose and free. "Relax. You're by far the most becoming lady here."

"Of course I am," Bulma agreed matter-of-factly. "I am Lady Bulma, the apple of Lord Yamcha's eye, the belle of the ball, the glowing goddess."

"Couldn't agree with you more."

Bulma and Lucinda turned to face a moderately handsome man-- a lesser noble, from the looks of him-- and giggled. Lucinda winked and disappeared into the crowd, her hips swaying in tune with the music.

"Care for a drink?" the man asked with a bow. At Bulma's hesitation, he grinned. "No one shall hear of our association tomorrow-- I swear to it, my lady."

Bulma did accept the drink offer, though her interest in the man offering was by no means serious. After engaging in a polite conversation, Bulma found her way back to Lucinda's side.

"Personally, I found Intergalactic Relations to be quite dull," Lucinda was saying to a small group of unfamiliar men. "There is not a single bit of useful information in the entire class. Not unless you wish to deny your identity as a proper lady and all that. All the class describes is how women on other planets have gained their independence from their men." She appeared to be a little bit drunk. "Its a man's world, I'll admit it-- and I'm content to toast to that. Wouldn't you agree, Bulma?"

Bulma, suddenly sickened, shook her head. Everyone, even Lucinda, seemed to be on the same wavelength-- women are on this planet to cater to the men that own them. The whole room seemed to be watching as she hurried from the club and out onto the deserted streets.

Alone... again.
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The doors of the throne room, now turned ballroom, were heavily guarded. Four burly, angry-looking Saiyan men stood by the entrance, arms crossed. They carried no weapons, and judging by the tingly feeling of ki in the air around them, Bulma guessed that it was because they required none.

Yamcha tried not to look too intimidated beside her, but his fingers tightened on her arm when the guards stepped in front of him expectantly.

"I am King Yamcha," Bulma's husband announced importantly. "I demand that you let me through to my own celebration."

The tallest of the men, a bald man with bulging muscles, raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You don't look like a king."

One of his comrades, a shorter man with long black hair, nodded in agreement. "Kind of scrawny, like a third-class or something."

Bulma, who had stepped slightly behind Yamcha, stepped forward so that she could get a better look at the men before them. They certainly looked nothing like Prince Vejita, the sole male example she had to compare them to. Rather than looking darkly handsome, their features just looked... rugged.

The men noticed her when she moved and felt their jaws so slack at the sight of her. No Saiyan woman they had ever laid eyes on possessed such beauty.

"Sorry about the mistake, Your Majesties," the tall bald one managed after he recovered from initial shock. "Have a nice evening..."

Bulma ducked her head as she passed by the men, feeling their prying dark eyes rove over her body mercilessly. She immediately regretted wearing the beautiful white wrap. Why bother when it made her feel like such a freak?

"Impress and intimidate," Yamcha whispered into her ear. "We must make an impression on the nobility that we will be dealing with. Remember that!"

"It would be hard to forget," Bulma replied.

Most conversation stopped when they entered the room. Bulma could hear her heart beating wildly.

The room was packed full of curious Saiyans of all shapes and sizes. Queen Magdalene and her son sat on their places on the thrones and also looked up when they entered. The men in the room followed Bulma with their eyes, not bothering to hide their staring. Yamcha's chest puffed out with pride when he noticed the attention his wife was receiving.

The Saiyan nobility stepped aside to make a pathway for them without being ordered to do so. The Queen and Prince waited for them, eyes calculating. Bulma kept her eyes on the floor.

"Well met, Your Highnesses," Queen Magdalene greeted. "You're both looking well this night."

A few not-so-subtle comments and noises could be heard around the room in response to the Queen's comment. Surprisingly, the woman laughed merrily. Bulma's cheeks burned.

"I see that the rest of the court shares my opinion."

Yamcha cleared his throat, wishing to be acknowledged. He had wanted to gain the attention of everyone in the room, but he had not intended for it all to be directed at Bulma. Prince's Vejita's black eyes narrowed dangerously, but his mother cut him off before he could comment.

"Its truly a pleasure to have you both with us on this occasion," Queen Magdalene continued sharply, with a sideways glare at Prince Vejita. "Feel free to socialize-- no one will bite." Judging by the court's quiet reaction, it was clear that this queen had complete control over her subjects. Bulma felt her respect for the woman grow. "Dance and have a good time."

The activity in the room picked up again, though glances were still thrown in Bulma's direction regularly. The Saiyans danced, drank, and gathered on the balcony to gossip contentedly. While Yamcha spoke to a nearby noblemen, Bulma took the opprotunity to study the other people in the room.

As she had observed at the landing platform, the Saiyans all had tanned skin and dark hair, with very few variations. Bulma could only see a few people with different colored eyes, including the Queen herself. The women wore wraps similar to her own, though the effect on the male population was not the same, and the men wore armor like Prince Vejita's and Yamcha's. They seemed so much more relaxed than Earth's first class-- all dancing and drinking like they hadn't a care in the world. And the way they danced-- swaying hips, loud drums, and intimate closeness was so foreign to Bulma. Back on Earth, every dance had specific steps and timing that must be memorized. But here... A part of Bulma wanted to run out there and join them in their strange dance.

"Excuse me for a little while," Yamcha said, releasing Bulma's arm. "I am going to join this kind gentleman for a drink."

Bulma watched as Yamcha was led across the room by a random Saiyan, grinning from ear to ear. She knew that Saiyan liquor was quite a bit stronger than human, and inwardly dreaded the consequences that she would have to face later that night. If he returned to their room at all.

"Don't worry about your husband."

Bulma whirled around to face Queen Magdalene, who had come off her throne to speak to her. The woman wore a green wrap that matched her eyes perfectly, and many gold bracelets that made pleasant noises whenever she moved. Her hair was plaited into hundreds of small braids and twisted up onto her head. Bulma smiled gratefully. Without companionship, she have had no idea what to do with herself in this room full of strange people.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I will have one of my guards see that he arrives to your rooms safely." The Saiyan Queen's eyes were kind and knowing.

"Thank you," Bulma replied softly, looking down at her hands.

"Don't mention it," Magdalene replied. "My husband used to be the same way."

A brief understanding passed between them, and Bulma found herself smiling genuinely. The expression lit up her whole face, and several Saiyan men nearby stopped their activity to stare for a moment. Queen Magdalene noticed and grinned impishly.

"Perhaps I should leave you alone so that you can socialize, hmm?"

"Socialize?" Bulma repeated, feeling incredibly stupid.

"Dance a little bit," Magdalene suggested, gesturing to the groups of swaying nobles nearby. "I'm sure that you'll have no problem finding a partner."

"Oh-- oh..." Bulma did not know what to say. Back home, a married woman never even spoke to another man without her husband's permission, let alone engaged in a dance. And especially not a dance of the kind that these people were doing. But that secret part of her that had craved to dance earlier beckoned to her. She could not resist it any longer. "Do you suppose that I could do it?"

"Do what?" Queen Magdalene asked. "Dance? Of course you can! Who is going to stop you?" She gazed pointedly across the room, where Yamcha was groping a dark-skinned Saiyan lady, who appeared to have no objections to his touch, nor the sweet nothings he was whispering into her pierced ear.

Bulma followed her gaze, and her eyes darkened. "You're right. Thank you, and excuse me."

The moment she stepped away from the Saiyan Queen, she was approached by a good-looking warrior with a bow. Magdalene smiled as Bulma relaxed slightly and began dancing with the man, then headed back to her throne.

"She's a natural," she informed her son excitedly, watching Bulma move along to the rhythm of the exotic music. Her happiness made her glow. The people nearby stopped their dancing to watch her.

Prince Vejita snorted, but his eyes followed the queen's movements. "I hope that you're proud of yourself."

"Of course I am," Magdalene said, smoothing down the fabric of her wrap. "The poor thing is like a caged animal, and I just handed her the key."

"For tonight, at least," Vejita retorted. "After this, she'll go right back into her shell."

"No," Magdalene insisted. "She's had her first taste of freedom, and its an addicting thing. Who knows what she'll decide to do next?"

Vejita did not respond, just watched the human woman lose herself in the music.

Bulma closed her blue eyes and allowed herself to be swept away, forgetting her dance partner and the people all around her. All she could think about was the sweet sensation of dancing. She felt as if she could spread her arms and fly away from her problems, from Yamcha, from her sour memories...

Vejita could not help but feel drawn to this strange woman. He was not one to go from one woman to another endlessly, as some of his royal relatives had a tendency to do. Just because a woman was available to him did not mean that he would take advantage of that fact. He found himself wondering what was going through this girl's mind right now, as she danced away her problems for the moment.

Secretly, he had been just as shocked as his mother when Yamcha had struck her earlier. But far worse than the action had been the reaction-- the blank, hopeless look in the girl's clear blue eyes, and absolute lack of retaliation. Vejita was not known for his controlled temper, but even at his worst, he would have never struck his own woman in such a manner, and never in front of the people that he was trying to impress. He couldn't even imagine the woman's embarrassment and trauma when her husband had done the unthinkable. But even worse were the thoughts of what else the man had done to her, late at night when they were all alone...

"Vejita?" Magdalene's voice shattered his strange thoughts.

Vejita looked down at his hands and realized that he was near to crumbling the armrests of his throne beneath his fingers. "What?" he snapped, turning to face his mother impatiently.

Magdalene raised an eyebrow at her son's tone of voice. "I was just saying that perhaps you should go out there and have some fun, you know--"

"Oh, please," Vejita groaned, tuning the Saiyan Queen out before she had finished her sentence.

She was always trying to distract him, whether it was from his training or personal life. He was suddenly quite sick of it.

Out on the dance floor, Bulma had switched partners and was now dancing with Kakkarott, one of the elite warriors. Vejita felt another wave of anger wash over him-- not jealously, mind you, just general hate and frustration. Kakkarott was an elite only because of his power level, dangerously close to the Prince's own. He hated the man with all of his might, and here he was, dancing with the royal family's guests like he was some kind of king...

"Don't even say a word," Magdalene warned, following his gaze with her own green eyes. "Kakkarott has done no harm, I can never understand why you hate him so. But oh-- does Bulma look happy with him!"

She was right-- Bulma was grinning from ear to ear. Kakkarott chattered on obliviously, apparently not even realizing who or what he was joking with-- the Queen of Earth and the most beautiful woman in the Universe. He was acting as if she were any other noblewoman.

And Bulma was loving it. She swayed to the music as Kakkarott related to her a joke that he had heard earlier that day. She had never been approached with a joke before, nor spoken to by a man like just any other person. She found herself wishing that she could stay on this dance floor forever, dancing like a heathen and talking about what happened when a Namekian walked into a bar and asked for a brandy.

From his throne, Prince Vejita watched her silently, thinking his own unconventional thoughts.
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Bulma was dancing to her second song with Kakkarott when a familiar hand was placed on her shoulder, shattering her brief moment of peace and freedom.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Yamcha demanded, slurring his words as he pulled her away from the confused Kakkarott and to the edge of the crowd. "Who was that?!"

Bulma tried to pull away, but Yamcha's grip only tightened. "Nobody! I was just dancing, Yamcha! You were doing the same thing, I--"

"No!" Yamcha exclaimed, shoving her up against one of the columns violently. "No!"

Bulma felt the breath knocked out of her and rasped for air. "Yamcha... please..."

"You are mine!" her husband ranted. "Mine! You will never act like that again, you hear?"

Hot tears began forming in Bulma's eyes as she fought uselessly against her intoxicated husband. "Please-- not here, not now..."

Yamcha pressed his mouth to hers forcefully, the smell and taste of liquor overpowering in Bulma's mouth and down her throat. Yamcha's hands groped her clumsily, and she was painfullly aware of the stares of half the throne room. She was back to where she had started now, to being the abused wife and trophy of Earth's king...

Then Yamcha was off of her, and Bulma fell back dizzily, her vision blurred with tears.

"What the..." Yamcha was calling out. "Son of a bitch!"

When her vision cleared, Bulma could make out the form of Kakkarott, restraining Yamcha with little trouble. She choked on sobs of relief and embarrassement and struggled to her feet again. The collective nobility of Vejitasei looked on, shocked.

"Come on, Your Majesty," Kakkarott coaxed, pulling him slowly away from Bulma and the crowd. "Lets go somewhere else, where you can regain your composure."

The Queen of Earth watched as her drunken husband was publicly escorted from the room, shouting obscenities and insults against the citizens of Vejitasei as he went. His words slurred together, and Bulma knew that he must seem like a lunatic to the Saiyans.

She couldn't bear it any longer. The girl covered her face with one hand and hurried out of the room, towards the balcony, where she could be alone.

Prince Vejita and Queen Magdalene, who had risen to their feet when the commotion had started, watched the woman escape from the room with dark eyes and expressions. Queen Magdalene held back tears of frustration and despair for the poor girl.

"Kami have mercy on her soul," she murmured, lifting her eyes briefly to the ceiling. "Someone must go after her. She is unstable."

Prince Vejita followed her retreating form with his eyes. Something told him that if he had spotted the controversy before Kakkarott had, he would have been the one down there dragging Yamcha away, but he wouldn't have spared the bastard the beating, as Kakkarott had done. He knew that his mother intended to send him down there after her, but he needed no coaxing. He slid off of his throne and weaved his way through the crowd after her. The Saiyans of Vejitasei had long since learned not to meddle in the volatile man's business, so they averted their eyes and continued their socializing without a second thought.

Out on the balcony, Bulma supported herself against the railing, shedding her tears silently. The large, dark sky was full of stars this night. They were much clearer here, on Vejitasei, where no pollution clouded the view as it did on Earth. The broken woman searched the heavens for a familiar star, but could find none. She craved for a constant in her life, something to hold on to, but she could find none. The only familiar thing she recognized was the bright form of Earth in the distance, and that was hardly a fitting constant. Earth was where all of her problems had began, and would undoubtedly continue after their return.

This hadn't been the first time Yamcha had gotten out-of-control drunk. It had happened many times before, but never in front of so many people, and especially not while they were on a diplomatic mission. The thought of all those Saiyans laughing at her misfortune and witnessing her weaknesses firsthand made her want to leap off of the balcony. She would never be able to face them again.

Bulma fingered the delicate material of her beautiful wrap and ignored the salty tears that fell steadily onto it. For a short time there, she had begun to feel like a normal person and not the freak of nature that she was. It had been an amazing sensation. It seemed only fitting that Yamcha should ruin that, too. He had already ruined every other aspect of her life-- why not take away her only moment of freedom also?

Prince Vejita paused just outside the doors of the throne room and studied the back of the girl before him. Her shoulders shook a little as she cried, which told him that she was restraining herself. Every so often she would lift her face to the skies, as if searching for something. He followed her gaze and noted the bright object that was Earth, and frowned.

He remembered how free and happy she had looked while dancing, like an angel in her frosty white wrap, Saiyan-style. It was a shame what had become of her life. Such a woman deserved to be cherished, not beaten and embarrassed in such a matter.

Bulma whimpered a bit, and lowered her head so that her curls fell forward, revealing the creamy skin of her back and neck. She looked like a beaten dog-- completely and utterly defeated and hopeless. Her shoulders began to shake again, and Vejita's sensitive ears could just barely pick up the sounds of her sobs. For some reason, he felt like turning back around and bestowing on Yamcha what he had placed upon Bulma. But he couldn't.

"Looking for a particular star?"

Bulma started and turned a tear-stained face to the Saiyan Prince. Her blue eyes widened in recognition, but then her face turned blank again.

"No, Your Highness," she responded softly, turning back away from him again.

Prince Vejita moved over beside her and looked over his mother's carefully tended gardens, then beyond them to the rocky coastline. Bulma's eyes were locked on the churning waves, the same color as her own stormy eyes. He could just barely catch her soft scent of vanilla and jasmine as the warm breeze caressed their faces, and found himself being drawn to this odd creature once again.

"If you aren't doing anything," he began suddenly. "Then come with me."

Bulma looked surprised and a little bit suspicious of the Saiyan Prince. "What?"

Vejita smirked and hopped over the balcony railing and down to the ground twenty feet below, aided by his ability to fly. Bulma leaned over the balcony to watch him with wide eyes. No one on Earth, not even Yamcha, was strong enough to fly.

"How am I supposed to get down?" she called, looking for a way to avoid making a decision. She desperately wanted to follow this mysterious man, for whatever reason, but reason was holding her back. Prince Vejita had given her more than ample reason to not trust him, so why risk it? Bulma glanced over her shoulder at the celebration, where Yamcha undoubtedly waited, then back down at the prince, who crossed his arms impatiently.

"How do you think?" was Vejita's crisp reply.

Bulma hoisted herself up onto the railing, then paused. She imagined herself sitting beside Maylene in the same position, years ago back on Earth. This was just the sort of thing that her old friend lived for, and the same thing that she herself had yearned to partake in her entire life. She thought of herself back on the dance floor, swaying to the foreign music like some sort of heathen, and of Yamcha's fist making hard contact with her face. She thought of all the memories that she hadn't the power to forget, the memories that haunted her in every waking moment, and realized that there was no decision to be made here.

Below the balcony, Prince Vejita waited.
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Rhapsody~*
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