Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unfaithful ❯ Part Two: 9 ( Chapter 9 )

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

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



________________________~* Part Two*~: Temptations
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Queen Magdalene was out in her private gardens, sitting amongst the drooping branches of a willow tree, when she happened to witness a strange, peculiar thing. Around the bend strolled the oddest trio you could ever hope to see-- her son, Kakkarott, and Queen Bulma herself.

Bulma and Kakkarott engaged in what seemed to be friendly, relaxed conversation, while Vejita listened in his normal, detached fashion. Magdalene made no comment as they approached her, instead she merely watched with dancing green eyes. Kakkarott and Bulma bowed/curtsied properly.

"Where in the world are you three headed?" the Saiyan woman asked, with a pointed look at her son.

"Into the city, Your Majesty," Kakkarott answered eagerly. "Me and Vejita-sama have to pick up some training clothes, and Queen Bulma's coming along to see the city."

"I see," Magdalene said mildly, folding her hands in her lap. "I need to have a word with my son, would you two mind giving us a moment?"

Bulma and Kakkarott moved a distance away, where they struck up a conversation with a passing warrior.

Vejita scowled at being delayed and waited for his mother to speak. Finally, she turned sharp green eyes onto him.

"Are you sure that this little escapade is a wise idea?" she asked sternly. "You are forgetting protocol. She may be pretty, and she may seem to be interested only in seeing the sights, but both you and I now that consorting with a girl married to someone like Yamcha is never a good idea."

"Who's consorting?" Vejita snapped. "You think that I'm some kind of fool, don't you Magdalene? You think that I am like all the other weaklings who can't control themselves around a woman! I am much more concerned with assuring the success of these talks than getting a good fuck out of a married queen."

Magdalene nodded, unfazed by her son's language and crude expression, but something else was nagging at her mind. "Earlier today, I showed Bulma the grand piano. She played beautifully."

Vejita cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

"She played the song. Your song." Magdalene's eyes bored in Vejita's intensely, searching for answers. "That is what happened last night, is it not? She hummed, or perhaps even whistled it, didn't she?"

Vejita frowned. His gaze shifted over to where Bulma and Kakkarott talked, then back. "Its impossible! It has to be a coincidence. She is a weak, mated human who read it in a damned history book!"

Magdalene's expression was grim. "She is not weak. Far from it, actually. I used to be the same way, and look at me now. All the girl needs is time." The corners of her mouth curled up into a smirk that mirrored her son's perfectly. "And a knife."

Vejita snorted.

"I cannot say whether its coincidence or not," Magdalene continued, more seriously. "All I can be sure of is the dangers of falling under her spell. Remember who she is, Vejita."

A grim look passed between them, then Magdalene motioned for him to leave.

"Go on," she said with a wave of her hand. "And tell that tailor of yours to have my dress delivered to the palace in time for dinner tomorrow night, hmm?"

She watched as her son returned to the others and they continued on, chatting casually. She wasn't sure of its origin, but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her want to run and stop them.
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"Ooh, I just love to go to the city! Don't you, Vejita-sama? All of those delicious smells, free food, and friendly people just make me want to live here!"

Vejita rolled his eyes, feeling a migraine coming on. "Kakkarott, you do live here."

The third-class warrior scratched his head. "Yeah, I guess I do, but I'm at the palace so much that it doesn't make a difference where I sleep anymore."

Bulma couldn't help but smile at the conflict between the surly Saiyan Prince and uppity Kakkarott. Putting the arguments and insults aside, it seemed that the two shared a strange friendship. They were complete and total opposites in every way except for their strength. They were sparring partners, always pushing each other to the limit. It was hard to miss their passion for training. Bulma half-heartedly wished that she had something similar to be so enthusiastic about.

"So, Queen Bulma, what do you do instead of train?" Kakkarott asked cheerily as they neared the city. "Well, I'm assuming that you don't train... do you?"

"No," Bulma replied. "I don't. And please, just call me Bulma." It felt so good to give somebody permission to call her by her first name, not at all strange and foreign like Bulma had anticipated it would.

"Alright... Bulma!" Kakkarott grinned, comfortable calling royalty by their first name. "What do you do in your spare time?"

Bulma struggled to think of something to say to these men. What did she do in her spare time besides primp and prepare for the parties that Yamcha lined up for her? "I seldom have time to myself," she finally replied. "I am kept quite busy all day."

Kakkarott accepted her lie and kept on jawing away about this and that, his food preferences, a woman named Chichi, and so on. Bulma half-listened and instead concentrated on her surroundings. Vejita noticed her blank look and began to watch her more closely. Unlike Kakkarott, he had been able to see straight past her lie and to the truth. He knew what she did in her spare time-- catered to Yamcha's wishes and dreamed about all that could have been, as she was doing now.

Her slanted eyes were dark with thought, which made her entire face so intense that, unless you were a blockhead like Kakkarott, you could not take your eyes off of her. Vejita's calculating gaze was just shifting over to get a closer look at her crown of luxurious curls when his mother's seemingly inane warning reared its ugly head in the back of his mind. Magdalene had been right, of course-- her impossibly good looks were proving to be dangerous. Even he, the cold prince, could not help but think of how easily he could span her slender waist with his hands, or--

"Say Vejita!" Kakkarott interuppted, right on time as usual. "Take a look at those peaches! Wow, would I kill for one of those!"

Vejita snapped out of his daze and realized that they were on the outskirts of the city. "Thanks for the observation, you idiot!"

Kakkarott chuckled. "For a prince, you sure are a good kidder!" He proceeded to move forward to take a look at the peaches.

"Is he ever not hungry?" Bulma came to stand beside Vejita, watching Kakkarott through fond eyes. "He annoys you, Your Highness-- may I ask why?"

Vejita scowled. "He is quite possibly the biggest dumbass on the face of the planet."

"But also the friendliest and most accepting person I've met so far," Bulma pointed out, thinking of their wonderful dance at the celebration the previous night.

Vejita watched him swipe a peach and devour it, much to the dismay of the fruit merchant. Sure, Kakkarott was the most annoying and sickeningly friendliest person he knew, but there was something about him that caused Vejita to think that it would be a good idea to keep him around. Perhaps it was because the 'dumbass' knew Vejita better than he himself did. Or maybe it was because he was the only man even close to his strength. Vejita loved a good rivalry. No matter the reason, Kakkarott was here now and there was no getting rid of him, that was for sure.

"I was right!" Kakkarott exclaimed, his mouth full of partly masticated fruit. "The best peaches on Vejitasei!"
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As Vejita and Kakkarott sorted out the situation with the angry fruit merchant, Bulma reveled in the city's busy atmosphere.

All around them warriors joked, merchants advertised, and children shrieked and played merrily beneath the foot traffic. The streets were cobbled to protect feet from the hot sand, and merchants set up tables beneath the shade of the buildings and occasional palm tree.

People stared as she passed, stopping only long enough to bow to their prince. Rather than feeling alienated, Bulma felt like she had been walking the streets for her entire life.

The mixed scents of exotic perfumes, cooking food, and oriental spices floated through the air, and Bulma could not help but think of how appalled her mother would be. According to her, the only good society was one completely lacking diversity and controversy of any kind. Bulma, however, could not help but think of how wonderful it would be to live in a place where she could be accepted in spite of her looks and reputation, and being able to consort with anybody she pleased-- rich or poor, stylish or oblivious to the latest trends.

Finally they reached a sheltered stand behind which stood a man who beamed greedily as they approached. The pins and scissors in his pocket led Bulma to believe that this was their tailor.

"Vejita-sama, who is this?" he asked in a strongly accented, mangled form of English. His eyes roved over Bulma's body conspicuously. "I would love to make you a dress, m'lady."

"She is Queen Bulma of Earth," Vejita responded boredly. "And the only dresses that you'll be making are the ones you promised Magdalene and one for you to wear to your funeral if you don't get me my gi."

After one last look at Bulma, the tailor nodded and selected three wrapped packages. "Here you go, Your Highness, as ordered, and please give my regards to your mother."

Vejita ignored the man as he turned away and led them deeper into the city. He handed one of the packages to Kakkarott, who grinned and ripped open the packaging to reveal a hideously orange training gi. Bulma could not help but smile, but politely hid it behind one hand.

"You're like a child, Kakkarott," Vejita scoffed. "Control yourself, or at least when you're in my presence."

"Do you like my gi, Bulma?" Kakkarott asked, shoving the orange material under her nose.

Bulma laughed happily, causing several people around them to stop their activities to look up at her with wondering dark eyes. "Yes, I do!"

"Vejita prefers dark colors," he informed her seriously, as if this were some great secret. "I think its because he doesn't want to dress like me all the time."

Bulma glanced over at Vejita in time to catch him rolling his eyes. It seemed wiser not to comment on Vejita's personal life. "What exactly is the purpose of these training gi's? Couldn't you just wear your armor to train?"

Vejita snorted. "You obviously haven't walked around in those damned things. Armor is uncomfortable and hot as hell."

Kakkarott nodded solemnly. If there was one thing that he was serious about, it was his training. "Training gi's are light and easy to move around in, so that you can have freedom of movement. Training in battle armor would be like..." His eyes moved to Bulma's wrap. "Training in something like that!"

"I see." The human woman then gestured to their packages. "And why can't you just have a servant fetch those for you?"

Vejita scowled. "Slaves irritate me."

"He always complains about how stupid they are," Kakkarott elaborated. "He's always worried that they'll steal the gi's or screw up the order or something."

Bulma could hardly blame the Saiyan Prince. Being waited on twenty-four hours a day could get quite bothersome. She thought of Nataliah, alone back at the palace, and felt a pang of guilt. She had gotten lucky, for once, to have an understanding handmaiden. "I suppose that that could happen easily enough."

Kakkarott looked back over his shoulder at the merchant, who was shaking his head at Vejita's rude behavior, then turned back to his prince with concerned eyes. "Hey, Vejita-sama, why did you have to be so mean to that tailor? All he did was offer to make Bulma a dress."

Vejita's blood boiled at the memory of the man's eyes drinking in the slender curves of Bulma's body. This time, Magdalene's warning never crossed his mind. He didn't even stop to rethink what he was feeling towards the forbidden human queen.

"The jackass seems to have forgotten that gaping a royal guest is grounds for punishment," he snapped back. "He got off lucky this time around."

Bulma remembered the tailor's greedy eyes and shuddered. "Thank you for that, by the way. The man was absolutely horrid!"

The three passed through a large set of open iron gates, and Bulma's companions stopped in their tracks. Bulma's uncomprehending eyes looked beyond the gates, where the market ended and the streets became lined with small houses and peasants sitting in the streets. It was only natural that Vejitasei should have its slums also, Bulma supposed as her perfect image of the city was shattered.

"What is this place?" she asked, her eyes coming to rest on a sleeping man who lay on the street. Or at least, she hoped that he was sleeping.

"Its the third-class neighborhood," Vejita said, his face clearly expressing distaste. "You have to pass through to make it into the heart of the city."

Kakkarott nodded. "I used to live here, before my dad was promoted to the security council. I never liked it much. Now we live in a better area."

Bulma could understand why, but she desperately wanted to go to the heart of the city. "We have to pass through, do we not?"

The Saiyan Prince nodded. "Have it your way, woman."

They proceeded to walk forward into the slightly more run-down area of the city. Kakkarott was strangely quiet, his brown eyes darkening with memories. Judging from the quality of the small, crowded homes and the mistrusting eyes peeking out at them from the windows, they weren't the happiest of memories. Bulma lifted her chin and tried not to show her intimidation.

"I used to live right over there," Kakkarott said to Bulma quietly, pointing to one of the houses. "I don't miss it though, the palace is much nicer."

"I would imagine so," Bulma agreed with an interested glance at his previous residence. "Don't you miss your friends here?"

"Yeah, sometimes I do," the Saiyan replied. "But I have lots more up at the palace."

Vejita smirked a little at this, but said nothing. Kakkarott shrugged, not quite understanding his scorn. Bulma sensed that Kakkarott had learned to let Vejita's constant sarcasm roll off of his back. It was a good thing, too-- or else he might have turned into a quivering example of low self-esteem in its most extreme form.

They were just passing a row of slightly larger, more decent-looking houses with flowers in the yards and polished windows (a sure sign of second-classed Saiyans, Kakkarott informed her) when a female Saiyan came out to meet them, smiling in welcome.

Vejita stopped and glared at this woman. "Who the hell are you?"

The woman, who had twinkling dark eyes and shortish black hair restrained with a kerchief, curtsied to her prince respectfully, though her eyes were on Kakkarott. "My name is Chichi, Your Highness. I'm a friend of Kakkarott's."

Kakkarott blushed a deep shade of red and grinned sheepishly at the prince. "Do you mind if I...?"

Vejita seemed relieved. "By all means, leave with the bitch."

Chichi's fists clenched the skirts of her plain red dress, but otherwise said nothing. Judging from her smoldering eyes and tight-lipped expression, she had quite a temper. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Kakkarott waved good-bye to Vejita and Bulma and trotted off into one of the houses with Chichi. When the door closed behind them, Bulma lifted a quizzical eyebrow.

"Are they courting?" she asked with a smile.

"Courting-- a useless human term." Vejita scowled. "Kakkarott is not capable of claiming a mate. It would be like a four year old getting married."

Bulma knew that Kakkarott was a bit immature, but she could vividly recall how fondly he had spoken of this Chichi earlier that day, and his shy smile when she had approached them just now. There was no mistaking love, in Bulma's eyes. She envied them their innocent, carefree romance.

"I disagree," she stated boldly. "There is no mistaking it. You can see it in their eyes."

"How sweet," Vejita quipped. "Its just like Kakkarott to stoop down to second-class, though."

"That's a rather snobby outlook on the situation, if you don't mind my saying so, Your Highness."

Vejita narrowed his eyes at the human queen, caught off-guard by her sudden confidence. "Kakkarott may have been born third-class, but he is an elite warrior now. Its an insult to the station to mate with a plain, second-class woman."

"I thought that she was quite pretty, actually," Bulma replied ironically. It was clear that she didn't understand how she outshined even the most beautiful of Saiyan women. "They look wonderful together."

"Who gives a shit?" was Vejita's irritated reply.

They passed through the second-class area and towards the heart of the city. Soon the homes that lined the streets turned into stores and restaurants, and the foot traffic became much heavier. If it weren't for their royal status, the two would have been rudely swept along with the crowd. Fortunately, the Saiyans recognized their prince and the striking young woman they had seen on the loading dock and kept their distance. Bulma peeked into the windows of the stores curiously, craving to see what it was that the Saiyans sold on their planet. Vejita noticed her curiosity but did nothing. He despised shopping of any kind. He had even managed to keep up their brisk pace and avoid any stops until they reached a smaller, more expensive-looking place out of which floated the light scent of flowers and spices.

Bulma stopped in her tracks, and if it weren't for his Saiyan reflexes, Vejita would have strolled on ahead a few steps before realizing that he was alone.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snapped with a skeptical glance into the boutique.

"They sell perfume in there," Bulma said, more to herself than to Vejita. "How wonderful..."

The Saiyan Prince seethed as she half-walked, half-floated over into the shop, where the merchant (after recovering from his initial staring) pounced at the opportunity to pawn off his goods. Bulma seemed ecstatic to be ripped off. Reluctantly, Vejita entered the shop and nearly vomited on the spot. The sharp scents of the intermingling perfumes burned the inside of his sensitive nostrils and brought tears to his eyes. He wondered how the Saiyan merchant could stand amongst the stuff every day.

"I only use real flowers and fruit extracts for my concoctions," the man was explaining. "That way you can be sure to have the purest scent possible."

Bulma nodded politely, her eyes not on the merchant but on the exquisite bottles of perfume sitting on the counter behind him.

"I have the perfect thing for you, Your Majesty..." the man continued, oblivious to Bulma's daze. "Its a special blend of vanilla and my exclusive floral mix--"

"Do you ever shut up?" Vejita snapped, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "The woman isn't even listening to you!"

Bulma reddened a little. "Of course I was listening!" she insisted. "I would very much like to sample that perfume you were describing." She cast a mildly challenging look in Vejita's direction without even realizing what she was doing. The Saiyan Prince glared back, obviously pissed off that she had made him enter the shop.

Under normal circumstances back on Earth, she would have never even thought of such a frivilous thing as perfume. Only the second-classed and boldest of nobles wore it, and even then it was subtle and demure. Maylene had owned several different scents, and Bulma had always envied her sweet-smelling aura.

The merchant reached behind the counter and picked out a small bottle of the perfume. Bulma's girlish heart skipped a beat at the pretty decoration. The bottle was small, and round for the most part, except for a short neck atop which sat a black stopper. The glass was a light, transparent pink, as was the liquid, and black ribbons were tied around it. The sun shining through the bottle caused tiny rainbows to dance over the merchant's tanned hands and captured Bulma's eyes.

"Its lovely," she breathed, taking the offered bottle into her own hands and examining it lovingly. "May I sample it?"

"Of course, Your Highness," the merchant exclaimed with a businessman's smile. "Go right on ahead!"

Vejita prepared himself for the painful sensation of the scent reaching his nose, but it never came. The bottle that Bulma opened contained a fluid that smelled distinctively like flowers, but was laced with something else that lightened the scent. What had the merchant said... vanilla? The mixture was pleasantly intoxicating, perfectly suited to the exotic queen.

"Its beautiful," Bulma commented, closing the bottle reluctantly. "How much for this bottle?"

The merchant eyed her expensively sewn clothes, then, with a sideways glance at Vejita, named his price. "Seventy."

"Fair enough." Bulma caressed the bottle, then looked back up at the merchant. "I will make arrangements for you to be payed by sunset."

"Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you very much!"

Before the man could start another sales pitch, Vejita stormed out of the shop. The fresh air chased away the lingering smell of strong flowers and the prince was grateful to be able to breathe again. Bulma said nothing, just stared down at her perfume with an odd look in her eyes.

"What is it?" Vejita demanded.

Bulma looked up, seemingly alarmed. "I would be shunned for this back home. I cannot believe that I just bought this..." Her blue eyes were pleading. "If you wouldn't mind, could you keep this to yourself?"

Vejita felt the tug of those eyes straight through to his cold heart, and something in him changed. He scowled, crossed his arms, and found himself going grudgingly against his usual ways.

"Yes."
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B ulma followed Vejita wordlessly along through the streets, nodding to people when they bowed and peering half-heartedly into each shop that they passed. She no longer felt the need to stop-- the perfume she had purchased was enough. She clutched the bottle still, yearning to dab some on her pressure points.

Beside her, Vejita observed his people critically. They avoided his eyes and muttered their respects when they passed, but their real attentions were focused on Bulma, who seemed oblivious to anything around her. It was a good thing, too, or else sooner of later it would have gone to her head. They were just entering the area most densely populated by restaurants and cafe's when Chichi and Kakkarott strolled around the corner, hand in hand.

Bulma tucked her bottle of perfume into the folds of her wrap and gestured to them. "It must be so wonderful to be in love like that, don't you think?"

Vejita raised an eyebrow at her impulsive comment. "I wouldn't know. Perhaps you could tell me."

Bulma's eyes widened, then moved down to the diamond on her ring finger. "Not that I don't love my husband. Its just that newlywed sort of thing that I was referring to."

Kakkarott and Chichi began to walk towards them. Vejita suddenly steered them away from the two, blending in expertly with the crowds. Faint calling could be heard from behind them, but soon enough it stopped. Chichi must have talked some sense into her idiot almost-mate, Vejita mused as he half-dragged Bulma along with him. When he was certain that they were out of the others' reach, he stopped and released his hold on her.

"What was that for?" Bulma demanded, looking down at the red marks on her pale skin.

"I'm sick of your bullshit," Vejita said irritably. "Its plain to even the dumbest of people that your mate is an ass incapable of anything approaching compassion. Your lies are beginning to bore me."

Bulma could not believe what she was hearing, even though she knew that it was true. "Excuse me? Yamcha is a faithful, caring man--"

Vejita did not give her a chance to reply. Instead, he motioned for her to shut up and headed for the quickest route out of the city. Soon they had breached the outskirts and were approaching the desert, where the cobbled path continued to an oasis that served as a sort of park. Bulma felt her hands trembling at her called lies.

"My father was just like your bastard husband," he informed her stiffly as they reached their destination. "And Magdalene was just like you-- stupid."

Bulma's eyes narrowed at his remarks. "How dare you--"

Vejita crossed his arms and regarded her seriously. "Both you and I know that Yamcha does not want to sign any treaties here. He came here to pretend to want peace so that he can buy some more time to prepare for war, and he dragged you along to shock us into compliance." At Bulma's incredulous look, he smirked. "How do I know this? Vejita Senior did the same damned thing."

Bulma felt angry and violated that this man had read their intentions so well, like they were an open book ready for his examination. But in a way, she was happy to be relieved of her burden, even if it were at the expense of their mission. Somehow, having somebody else know her situation made it seem like she weren't alone in the world anymore.

"And what am I supposed to do about it?" she hissed, with a glance to be sure that they were alone. "Women do not contradict their husbands, at least not where I'm from. I have no choice, as your mother probably didn't."

Vejita's eyes gleamed strangely. "She had a choice. And she made the right decision."

Bulma caught on to the subtext of his statement and felt her jaw go slack. "She didn't! She couldn't have."

"Humans are weak, cowering creatures," Vejita said. "They dance around the subject and put off what needs to be done. Ask Magdalene-- she'll proudly tell you the whole story."

The thought of killing Yamcha gave Bulma goosebumps. The feel of a knife sliding smoothly into the space between his ribs, the satisfying death rattle and limp feel of her husband's body as she pulled the weapon out of him... Bulma shook her head to clear the sadistic, underlying thoughts that even she had felt occasionally.

"Is there a point to this confrontation?" she asked coolly, surprising herself with her ability to hide her emotions. She had never realized how pathetic she had become.

Vejita struggled to think of the answer to her question, but held back. What was the point of the conversation? He had initiated it with an accomplishment in mind, but what was it? The possibilities frightened the war-hardened man. He hated to admit it, but Magdalene's warnings rang true. This woman was impossible to ignore.

"Its getting late," he stated curtly. "You are scheduled to meet my security council tonight, so there is no point in delaying it any further."

Bulma could not believe that he was avoiding her simple question, but wisely decided to give in. For some reason, she had been hoping to hear something far different from the enigmatic man.

"Please, lead the way."
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Rhapsody~*
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