Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unfaithful ❯ Part Two: 8 ( Chapter 8 )

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

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



________________________~* Part Two*~: Temptations
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Bulma awoke the next morning with the tangy smell of the sea still poignant in both her nostrils and her memory. She sat up in her bed and stretched slowly, savoring the moment's peace.

She had returned to her chambers the previous night to find Yamcha passed out on the couch in the main room, with a note attached to his forehead. Stamped onto it was the royal crest of Vejitasei. Bulma was surprised at Vejita's efficiency, but more relieved than anything else. That is, until she got a closer look at her husband's unfastened fly and the cheap scent of rose perfume floated up to her nose. The Queen fleetingly remembered the random Saiyan woman he had been fondling at the celebration and frowned. Hopefully she wasn't a gossip.

Sure that Yamcha was accounted for, she had gone to bed, only to find herself busied with dreams of the blue ocean and magnolia trees. But even more startling than the dreams of the palace's beautiful surroundings were the dreams of what had happened in the palace itself. Bulma had dreamed that this was her home.

In her dream, she had walked the halls in whatever clothing she chose, swam in the ocean, and even sported a healthy golden tan. After a long day of pleasant walks around the palace grounds, she had returned to the palace where she found Maylene waiting for her to join in a dance.

They moved to the loud music like the Saiyans did, and spoke to any and all men freely. When the dance ended, however, Maylene disappeared, and Bulma found herself sitting on a balcony railing in her nightdress. Not far below, Prince Vejita waited, smirking lazily, with a handful of seashells.

Bulma slipped out of bed, her mind still reeling over her strange dreams, and arranged her seashells in careful rows on her vanity, thinking of the previous night's events. She didn't even think to hide the shells from her husband, who no doubt would grow suspicious.

After guiding her back to the palace without much conversation, just a comfortable silence, Prince Vejita had had her escorted back to her chambers by a timid Saiyan maid. He had let her go without so much as a bow or a formal good-bye. Bulma found his detached mannerism unsettling and rude, but at the same time... charming. The man put on no airs, though there was no underestimating his arrogance. His strong presence made her feel protected and safe. Not once had she worried about whether Yamcha could harm her or not.

She knew that it had been Queen Magdalene's suggestion for him to go after her, but that fact was easy to ignore. For once, Bulma allowed no harsh realities to hinder her dreams.

Nataliah found her standing out on the balcony, daydreaming, soon later. The handmaiden cleared her throat to get her attention.

"What is it?" Bulma asked, bathing shamelessy in the warm morning sun. Boats sped across the ocean waters already, leading Bulma to guess that the Saiyans were morning people, much like herself. She much preferred these active people to the hungover, lazy humans back at home.

"The Queen has requested your presence in the throne room, m'lady," Nataliah responded. "And you should be careful of your complexion-- the sun here is harsher than on Earth."

"Thank you," Bulma dismissed. "I will be in to dress shortly."

She waited until Nataliah had gone back inside before smiling broadly. Queen Magdalene had requested her presence-- hers alone. Bulma could hardly believe her luck-- for once, someone had requested her presence and not her 'superior' husband's. She stood in the sun for another moment, then turned to go back inside, hardly knowing the extent of the enjoyment ahead of her.
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Soon later, Nataliah had Bulma fully prepared for her meeting with the Queen.

She was escorted out of her chambers (after carefully side-stepping around Yamcha's sleeping form) wearing a pale yellow wrap cut similarly to the one she had worn the night before. It secured at both shoulders and was just slightly transparent, by Bulma's special request. Somehow, she felt strange and fake wearing revealing clothing in front of the Saiyan Queen. She had a way of making you feel as if she could see straight through you. Bulma did not want to make the expression literal.

When she arrived at the throne room, however, Queen Magdalene was not sitting on her throne or at a meeting table set with the convential tea and scones; she was standing around, impatiently waiting for her. She reminded the human of her son as he had waited for her the night before. When Bulma was dropped off and entered the room, she smiled in welcome and motioned for her to follow.

"I have something that I want to show you," she announced with a sly smile. "Something that I think you'll like very much. If you'll follow me, m'lady."

Bulma did her bidding and tried to contain her excitement. What could she possibly have in store for her? They hadn't gone far when the Queen stopped in front of a pair of rich wooden doors. Magdalene turned back to her with a reassuring grin before opening the doors to let her through.

Bulma was awed by the sheer beauty of the grand old room. The Queen smiled knowingly at her slack-jawed expression.

"It had much the same effect on me when I first came here," she explained, looking over the Gothic columns fondly. "But the most beautiful part of this room..." She walked over to a large, expensively made piano. "is right here."

Bulma regarded the piano in such a way that suggested she knew what to look for, and the Queen couldn't help but notice.

"Do you play?" she asked. "I had no idea that you were musically inclined, Your Majesty."

Bulma's eyes were clouded over with memory as she circled the wonderful instrument slowly. "I used to. The piano is not considered a ladylike hobby back on Earth, so my experience is... limited."

Her mother's scolding voice echoed in her mind. 'Useless piece of trash.'

"I love music of all kinds," Bulma continued blankly, closing her eyes as the voice got louder.

'You and your ridiculous hobby are worthless...'

"It was... my escape."

'Miserable, manly whore... you belong on the streets with the rest of the starving artists!'

Bulma winced at the memories, then opened her eyes. The Queen was looking at her strangely.

"I also like to sing, which was more acceptable, but... it didn't matter. My fingers were forever cursed because they had caressed the keys of that damned piano." Her tongue savored the feel of the swear word, which hadn't been uttered in years.

"I would like to hear you play," the Queen said gently. "To hear one played on this planet is a rare treat indeed."

Bulma hesitated, then took a seat at the piano. Just before her fingers touched the ivory keys, she paused. Blue eyes sought green ones.

"No one will frown upon you here," the Queen assured her, coming to rest her hands on the instrument.

Bulma nodded, then her fingers touched the keys and she played. She wasn't sure what she played-- when she began she was immediately transported to another time and place, where she was sitting in front of another, much less luxurious piano. She played even as tears ran down her much more youthful face in the eyes of her memory.
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She was alone, in a secluded room that was her only sanctuary at the time. The music was pouring from her fingers, straight from the depths of her tortured soul. Then the door was slammed open, and her mother stormed in.

Her face was twisted as if the cheerful harmonies were painful to the ears. "Bulma Briefs! I've had enough of this unacceptable behavior! Stop that horrible racket and return to your chambers this instant!"

Bulma had stopped playing, but did not move away from her beloved piano, carefully hidden away in her governess' chambers. "Mother, my lady-- its only music."

Lady Briefs raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Yes, and you're only a stupid, silly girl with hopeless ambitions and no talent whatsoever."

The insult weighed heavily into the silence for a moment. Then Bulma stood and stepped away from the piano, her blue eyes vulnerable enough to give away her tight expression. Lady Briefs smiled triumphantly.

"That's a good girl," she consented, putting her hands on her hips. "Now get out of my sight!"

Bulma had scurried away, leaving her coveted music behind her for the last time. Lady Briefs had won-- the girl hadn't so much as touched a piano since that day, so many years ago.
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When Bulma opened her eyes again, her song was over and Queen Magdalene was studying her with an odd expression on her face. Bulma blinked a few times to clear her vision, then reluctantly shifted her fingers away from the smooth old keys.

"I am sorry," she muttered, wringing her hands together nervously. "The piano is in perfect tune, I'm just not sure of what I played, and--"

Magdalene held up a hand. "Don't apologize. It was breathtaking."

Bulma was still for a moment, then she sighed heavily, her tense shoulders relaxing a little. "I haven't played in such a long time. It must have been terrible."

"It was perfect," Magdalene corrected her. "You possess a rare talent, my dear. Its only fitting that you exercise and shape it. You are welcome to come here and play whenever your heart desires. I'll have someone come in and clean it up a little, as well as post some guards at the doors."

Bulma stared with wide blue eyes as Magdalene stepped away from the piano and over to the large, floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the room. Then she stood and crossed the room to stand beside her.

"That is not necessary," she informed her seriously, though her heart was racing with joy at the thought of being able to play music again. "Please don't go through all of that trouble for me."

"It would be my pleasure," the Saiyan assured her. "As a matter of fact, I plan to come and listen every once and a while. It isn't often that I have the chance to watch a true musician perform live."

Bulma's grateful smile and teary eyes were heartbreaking. "I have never received a better gift in my entire life."

Queen Magdalene snorted. "Don't be silly!"

They stood and looked out the window in a seemingly comfortable silence, but inside, Bulma secretly thought that Queen Magdalene was mistaken.

This truly had been the best thing anyone had ever given her.
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Meanwhile, Vejita was on his way from his breakfast in his chambers to the gravity room and training facilities on the opposite side of the palace.

He had not slept well the previous night, and planned to beat the insomnia out of his system. All night, he had been hearing his song, that same haunting melody over and over again. Something in the back of his mind was screaming for him to comprehend the message, but it was no use. He could not understand, no-- he would not allow himself to understand. His temper and cold attitude were infamous, and he would not allow anything to jeopardize his real focus in life. Training.

The doors that made up the barrier between the training area and the palace loomed before him, a solid reminder of his ultimate goal-- acheiving the status of Super Saiyan. He must fight to keep his mind on the right track, he reminded himself silently.

The guards nodded and bowed as he passed, their expressions guarded. They had long since learned never to break the prince's concentration with needless words, so they made no comment. Vejita liked it that way. He did not have to waste time reminding them of their place in the scheme of things.

The training facility was fairly empty-- only a few of the elite warriors trained half-heartedly. Vejita scowled, knowing very well that the others were still hungover from the celebration in their beds. When the elites sensed the Saiyan Prince in their midst, they picked up the pace immediately.

Vejita moved past them with a frown, back towards his own private gravity chamber. He picked up a clean towel and wrapped it over his shoulders. But when he approached the controls, he found an unpleasant surprise. It was on and in use-- at two times normal gravity, no less!

Vejita slammed off the switch, powering up to kill the stupid weakling who had dared to enter his private gravity room. With his blue ki flaring out around him like fire, he entered the deactivated room. But instead of meeting the expected clueless second-class warrior, he found himself face to face with none other than King Yamcha of Earth.

Upon seeing the glowering prince, Yamcha started and jumped away impulsively.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Vejita demanded angrily, his hate for this cowardly man growing by the second. "This is my private gravity room, you fool!"

King Yamcha shrugged nervously. "The men outside told me to train here."

Vejita made a mental note to punish the scheming elites, then focused his attention back on Yamcha.

"They were mistaken," he snapped, crossing his muscled arms. "Now if you don't mind, get your weak ass out."

Yamcha made an attempt to glare back. "I don't understand why we can't just spar," he suggested with a false bravado.

Vejita smirked at the entertaining thought. "You are only capable of withstanding two times normal gravity, compared to my nine hundred. I could kill you with one blow."

Yamcha started to protest, but Vejita interuppted him before he could muster a single word.

"What are you doing here anyway?" he asked. "Humans aren't capable of real exercise, everyone knows that."

"I am the strongest man on Earth!" Yamcha exclaimed angrily. "I could take on anyone who isn't a genetically mutated ape!"

Vejita's ki began to rise rapidly, and before Yamcha could absorb what was happening, he was being gripped at the throat by a pissed off Saiyan.

"What did you call me?" Vejita's eyes began to take on a terrifying red tinge, and his flaring ki scorched the human's sensitve skin as it grew.

Yamcha trembled, then rasped an unsteady reply. "You won't get away with this, you b-... bastard! Killing me is a breach of protocol, and thats enough to declare war!"

Prince Vejita's eyes narrowed at the threat. "Beating your woman is also grounds for impeachment. We are even for now, you quivering little son of a bitch, but if you ever cross me again, I will not be so leniant."

He released his death grip and stepped back as Yamcha fell to the floor, gasping. When Yamcha could speak again, he voiced his opinion timidly.

"I will not forget this, Saiyan."

Vejita scowled as the human got to his feet and retreated from the room. He knew very well that what he had just done was grounds for war, but did not care. If the occasion arose, Earth would be crushed in the space of a week. The peace treaty had been his mother's idea, after all-- Vejita would have purged the planet long ago if it had not been for the queen's interference.

Besides, he hardly cared anymore. He had witnessed his father, a man much like Yamcha, do the very same thing with his life, and he had zero tolerance for such foolishness. Yamcha deserved any and all punishment that he could place upon him.

He vividly remembered the beaten-dog look in Queen Bulma's eyes, and found himself regretting that he hadn't hit Yamcha harder.
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Queen Magdalene had left Bulma alone in the music room, having to leave suddenly on royal business. Bulma hardly minded-- the Queen was friendly and amusing to talk to, but she wanted a chance to look over the palace for herself, at least for a little while.

She stayed in the music room for a short while longer, fooling around on the grand piano, then ventured out timidly, strolling through the decorated halls slowly. She wandered silently through the palace, every once and a while stopping to examine a tapestry or interesting painting. This was how the Saiyan Prince found her, on his way back to his chambers.

"Earth women typically do not care for fine art," he commented as he came to stand beside her.

"Then I am not a typical Earth woman, Your Highness." Bulma blue eyes roved over a mounted painting eagerly, taking in all of the gruesome details. "I can't say that I care much for this variety, however." She studied the depiction of carnage and rape with mild amusement that made her nearly unrecognizable. Vejita had rarely seen her animated like this. "I hardly think that any artist could come up with this-- is it a war?"

Vejita smirked. "A mere skirmish, really. Just some unruly citizens."

Bulma raised an eyebrow, thinking that it would not be wise to go to war with such violent people, then moved on to a more normal painting of a proud, tyrant-looking man who startingly resembled Vejita. "Your father?"

Vejita did not answer, just stared at the painting with dark, stormy eyes. Finally he nodded, and Bulma understood.

"My mother was much the same way," she commented softly, bowing her head as the memories came to her again. "Sometimes I even suspect her of poisoning my father."

The Saiyan Prince showed no outward signs of emotion, but inside he was appreciative of her private comment. Everyone else, even his mother, who had done the deed of disposing of the man herself, refrained from mentioning his father as if saying his name would cause him to rise out of hell to haunt them all.

"This one is beautiful," Bulma said, gazing at a painting of the ocean. The colors of the paint matched her eye color perfectly. "As you've already seen, I always have loved the ocean. I am not usually permitted to go near it at home, though. I think Yamcha is afraid that I'll..." She trailed off, realizing who she was talking to. "Nevermind-- I'm babbling. My apologies, Your Highness."

Vejita nodded and examined the painting for himself. He himself had always admired the ocean for its unpredictability and ability to kill as well as comfort. Bulma's eyes lingered for a few seconds longer, then shifted to the next tapestry.

"Thank you for sending my husband back last night," she said suddenly. "He would have never made it otherwise, judging by his condition. You work quickly."

"And discreetly."

Bulma thought that she detected a dangerous insinuation beneath his cool tone, but she couldn't be sure. This was one person who was almost impossible to read. Not that she had any interest in his private thoughts, of course.

"Thank you for that, also," she managed. "The note on his forehead was a... nice touch."

Vejita smirked. "My own little personalization, in case you forgot to whom you owe the favor."

"Right, Your Highness," Bulma replied weakly. Then she moved on to the next picture and focused her artist's eye on the painting. Ironically, it depicted a woman in white clutching a knife to her chest, with tears of what Bulma intrepreted as hopelessness streaming down her face. In the backround, a war waged on. Bulma averted her eyes while Vejita looked on.

"An interesting piece," the prince commented with a sideways glance over at Bulma. "She looks familiar to me."

Bulma's heart seemed to be lodged in her throat, so she said nothing. Instead, she lifted her chin and pressed on, forcing a pleasant smile onto her face. "So, Vejita-sama, when do the negotiations start? I'm sure that my husband will want to know." She placed emphasis on the word 'husband', though she wasn't sure why. Prince Vejita fully understood that she was married, and besides that, why should it make a difference to him?

Vejita remembered Yamcha's cowering before him earlier that morning, and couldn't help but feel amused. His council, as well as himself, could take that cowardice and run with it. "Tomorrow at noon. Tonight you will be introduced to my foreign policy council at dinner. That was Magdalene's idea, of course. The woman can never get something done without making a big fucking deal out of it."

Bulma imagined another incident similar to Yamcha's misconduct the previous night and smiled tightly. "That should be lovely."

The two passed by a window, and Bulma stopped in her tracks to take a look. Below, the bustling streets of the capital city loomed.

Bulma was reminded of the scene below her balcony as a child and took an involuntary step closer. Groups of young Saiyan children ran through the streets, screaming and laughing. She was soon lost in her reoccuring daydreams of herself as a child, sunburned and dirty, playing with her imaginary playmates like a normal child. Prince Vejia noticed her scruntity and followed her gaze.

"If you want to mingle with the second and third class that badly, Kakkarott and I are going down there to look for training gi's," he informed her a bit stiffly. "I could always send for some, but I dont trust those assholes for a minute. Idiot foreigners..."

Bulma recalled Kakkarott's easy, friendly smile, so out of place among the stern-faced Saiyans, and couldn't help but grin.

"I would love to."
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Rhapsody~*
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