Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unfaithful ❯ Part Two: 10 ( Chapter 10 )

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

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



________________________~* Part Two*~: Temptations
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When Bulma returned to the palace, Prince Vejita retreated into the training areas and Queen Magdalene was nowhere to be found, therefore leaving the human queen to her own devices. She, only by sheer luck, found her way back to she and Yamcha's chambers. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, Nataliah descended upon her frantically.

"Your Majesty!" she exclaimed. "What kept you for so long?"

"We spent more time in the city than I had anticipated," Bulma replied tiredly, brushing past the handmaiden and into the bedroom. With a backward glance over her shoulder, she tucked her coveted bottle of perfume in one of the drawers of her vanity, beneath the folds of her clothing and lingerie. When she turned back around, minus the bottle, Nataliah was watching her oddly. "Where is Yamcha?"

"He left soon after you this morning, to train."

Of course. Yamcha never missed an opportunity to show off, not that he was any stronger than the average Saiyan baby. Bulma was just relieved that he was not present to bother her. She gave him two hours before he grew sick of defeat and came back to the room to vent off his frustration.

"Would you mind terribly if I left you alone again?" Bulma asked her handmaiden, who paled at the question. "Being cooped up in this room is terrible, especially when there's so much to see elsewhere."

Nataliah shook her head weakly. "Of course I don't mind, Your Majesty. Its just that... the Saiyans frighten me."

Bulma smiled sympathetically. "Thats only to be expected. Perhaps I should request an escort for you so that you can--"

Nataliah shook her head. "That will not be required, m'lady. I would prefer to stay here."

"So be it then. Would you mind leaving me alone for a moment?"

Nataliah gave her a strange look-- she always assisted her in dressing and the like-- but did not protest to the unusual request. She left the room and wandered out onto the balcony, where Bulma saw her watching the ocean below.

Alone and safe to do what she pleased, Bulma dug up her bottle of perfume and spritzed herself lightly, reveling in the sweet scent that would have driven her mother and Yamcha crazy. Then she tucked the bottle away again and exited the room. With a farewell wave to Nataliah, she left their chambers and started towards the wonderful room that Queen Magdalene had shown her to earlier-- the music room.

The newly posted guards nodded to her and opened the doors readily, with bows in her direction. Bulma ignored them and closed the doors behind her, wishing for privacy. She found herself in the perfect place for that particular desire.

The afternoon sunlight cast the room in a cheery light glow, and the grand piano beckoned to her like an old friend. Bulma obeyed her yearnings and sat down at the instrument, her fingers itching to caress the keys. Completely in her element, she let down the majority of her hair, with the exception of a few pinned strands at the crown of her head, and sighed heavily.

Before starting to play, she gazed out of the picture windows silently, thinking of what it was that she wanted to play. The selection in her memory was by no means extensive, after all. Before she had made a conscious decision, her fingers attached themselves to the keys, and she was playing.

As she played, she did not look down at her hands, but instead kept her eyes on the windows, taking in the warm summer sunlight, the swaying tops of palm trees, and Saiyan buildings on the distant horizon. She didn't even know what it was that she was playing, all she knew was that it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

Meanwhile, Vejita stormed down the hall, frustrated from his brief traning session. Yamcha had still been in the training areas, contaminating the area and irritating him beyond control. At least he still wasn't in Vejita's private gravity room, as before.

He was passing by the music room, on the way back to his chambers, when the unmistakable sounds of a piano being played floated its way to his ears. It wasn't so much the instrument that stopped him, but the tunes that were being played. It was his song, again, doctored up by an expert musician who apparently knew what they were doing. Vejita could think of only one other person besides his mother who knew his song-- Queen Bulma.

The Saiyan Prince motioned for the guards stationed at the doors to leave and paused outside for a moment, listening. The song was changed a little, so that it was more appealing to the ears and lighter on the soul, but there was no doubt what it was. Angry at this almost impossible reaccuring coincidence, Vejita decided to make an appearance at this particular private concert.

His tirade, however, was cut short when he entered the room and spotted the pianist. Bulma started and immediately ceased her playing at the sight of the angry man. She had obviously been caught off-guard and unawares, because her hair was almost completely down and the soft scent of vanilla and flowers hovered in the air. Her wide, trapped blue eyes said it all. His intrusion into her private world was unforgivable.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, moving to get up from her seat at the piano.

Vejita motioned for her to stay where she was and approached the piano slowly. "Don't stop playing. I want to hear that song again."

Bulma looked confused, but sat down again nonetheless. She placed her fingers on the keys again and began to play the song, though not with the same feeling that had previously. "Its the same song that I looked up in that history book, Vejita-sama. Do you recognize it?"

Vejita thought of denying it, but somehow could not bring himself to. He crossed his arms and eyed the piano like the song had been its doing. "Yes. I do."

Bulma waited for a further explanation, but none was offered. This part of Vejita was still a private one, one that he chose to keep close to himself. Rather than push it further, she dropped the subject and continued to play the song absently, her mind elsewhere. She found it really difficult to concentrate with the intense prince staring at her suspiciously. And especially when she was in such a relaxed state. She was painfully aware of her unbound hair, and itched to twist it up in attempts to save face. What would this fellow monarch think of her now?

Truthfully, Vejita was thinking a lot about her, but not letting it show. She looked completely different with loose hair. Somehow more vulnerable, and much more beautiful, no doubt. Outwardly, he scowled at his treacherous thoughts, but inside, he could not stop himself. The continued playing of his song propelled him still further. There was no more denying it-- the coincidence was just too great, and the girl was far too alluring.

"I know that song because it was assigned to me at birth," he found himself blurting out monotonously. "Up until you hummed it at the beach, Magdalene and I were the only ones who knew of it."

Bulma stopped playing abruptly. "Forgive me, but I don't understand. It was 'assigned' to you?"

Vejita avoided looking into her eyes and instead glared out the window, as if she had forced the information out of him. In a way, though, she had. "Every Saiyan is given a song at birth, and their mate and their parents are the only ones who are supposed to know of the song. In most cases, the song is something children sing to pass the time or whatever, and its extremely odd that a human should know of it. I find it hard to believe that a song such as mine should be printed in a book."

"We don't have any traditions similar to that on Earth," Bulma said, not fully comprehending his explanation. "It would be wonderful if we did, though. I rather like the idea of having something all your own like that."

"Apparently, its not all my own anymore," Vejita replied suspiciously.

A heavy silence hung in the air as both parties pondered the statement. Bulma did not understand what he was trying to tell her, and Vejita was having trouble understanding it himself. So, the woman had read of it in a book-- that was hardly reason to start seriously worrying. Finally, Bulma broke the silence.

"Its a lovely song, really," she said. "Once I saw it for the first time, it just wouldn't go out of my head. I'll stop playing it, if you'd like."

Vejita nodded, his black eyes clouded over with thought.

Bulma looked awkwardly down at her hands, which were still resting on the piano, then pulled them away as if she were ashamed. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Your Highness."

The Saiyan once again nodded, but said nothing. His eyes had drifted over to the window, where he seemed to be watching a pair of birds chase each other playfully through the air. Bulma stood from her seat and started to leave. Before she could get past the piano, though, she was stopped by a heavy hand on her arm. She flinched at the unusual contact and whirled around to face Vejita again. He was now watching her intently.

"Where did you learn that song?" he asked again, his eyes narrowed in warning. "Don't lie to me."

Bulma could do nothing but stare at him in shock. How could he have known? She recoiled away from his touch, thinking that he was some sort of mind-reader. She desperately wanted to hold on to the frightening truth, but found herself opening her mouth to answer his demand.

"In a dream," she admitted softly. "I heard it in a dream."

Vejita stared at her for a moment, taking in her confused expression and pretty blue eyes, and felt the all-too-familar impulse that his mother had warned him about uselessly. Bulma recognized the feral, greedy look in the Saiyan's eyes and began to back away, her fingers clenched onto her wrap in anxiety. Vejita, controlled by his own mindless motives, moved forward after her.

"Leave me alone-- please!" Bulma pleaded with him, shaking her head so that her hair fell around her shoulders, further throwing the prince's logic. "What are you doing?!"

She found herself backed up against the wall of the room, trapped and helpless against the nearly invincible Saiyan. The image of Yamcha, cornering and hitting her like he had so many times before, rose to the surface of her mind and overwhelmed her with fear. She closed her eyes and braced herself for an attack, but one never came.

Vejita was startled out of his trance by the sight of her cowering in obvious fear and helplessness. She looked so pathetic-- her hands clutched to her chest and her head bowed in preparation for what she thought was coming. The sickening smell of fear and sorrow came off of her in waves. Vejita blinked his dark eyes and surveyed the situation as if he were across the room, looking at himself and the human queen.

Bulma cowered before him, turned away from his hand on the wall next to her head, blocking her from escape, and he, blinded by his own animalistic impulses, loomed over her like some sort of crazed psychopath. He let out a shaky breath of frustration, and Bulma's eyes opened slightly in surprise at the absence of action. When she met his eyes, she let out a strangled whimper in desperation.

"Please..." Her voice was as small and weak as he had ever heard it. "Don't..."

The close proximity, the sweet smell of her, and the previous coincidence involving his song was too much to bear any longer. Vejita felt himself smirk a little, then lean in closer to the married woman. He didn't realize what he was doing until their lips met unexpectedly, and Bulma went limp against him. Her hands pressed weakly against his chest, effecting nothing.

Bulma felt her body freeze up when the prince suddenly leaned in to kiss her. She placed her hands in protest against his strong chest, but found that she didn't really want to push him away. Kissing Yamcha had never been like this-- not even her brief romance with Byron had been like this. Perhaps it was the years of frustration and loneliess. Whatever it was, Bulma hardly cared anymore. It was too late. She let her body go limp and did not protest when the Saiyan's hands ventured to her waist and pulled her closer to him. Her arms, in response, wrapped around him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Their lips parted for a moment, and they caught their breath. Suprisingly enough, it was Bulma that made the next move. She closed the distance between them and reveled in the comfort of the strong man's embrace.

Vejita was surprised, but was nowhere near willing to break off the encounter. The feel of the human's body against his was better than he had imagined. It was good enough to chase all reasonable thoughts of out his mind-- namely the fact that she was married, a royal guest, and if anyone happened to stroll in, they could be charged with treason and killed. Bulma's lashes fluttered against his cheeks, and he could feel the wetness of her tears against his face.

Then the kiss ended, and they pulled away from each other reluctantly. Bulma's cheeks, in fact, where wet with tears of sorrow or joy-- who knew, and what difference did it make? Their eyes met, and both knew the possible consequences of their actions.

"This should not have happened," Bulma whispered. "If anybody were to find out--"

"They won't." Vejita began backing away from the human. "I have been detained for too long. I have to return to my training."

Bulma watched as he turned to leave, then glanced out the window at the sunny skies. "If Yamcha gets wind of this..."

Vejita paused with his back to her. She was voicing the very things that had crossed his mind just now. His stubborn pride, however, would not allow him to turn so that she could see the indecision on his face. "Act like it never happened. Erase it from your mind."

"Can it be done that easily?"

Vejita knew very well that neither one would be likely to forget. "Its going to have to be, isn't it? You and Yamcha will be introduced to my security council tonight at dinner. We'll discuss this later."

Bulma watched him leave, her heart heavy in her chest. What had they done?
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"Where have you been?"

Bulma closed the doors of their chambers behind her and turned to face her seething husband. He was lounging on the couch, holding a telltale glass of bold Saiyan champagne in one hand. Nataliah was nowhere to be seen. Yamcha followed her searching gaze and frowned.

"The girl is in our room, doing her job," he snapped. "She's selecting your dress for the dinner tonight."

Bulma hoped that her flushed cheeks and hastily adjusted wrap wouldn't give her away. "I was in the city with the prince and one of the elite warriors, Kakkarott."

"Is that so? With that bastard, Vejita?" Yamcha clearly did not approve. "Without the presence of another female?"

Bulma realized her mistake, but it was too late. "Things are done differently here, Yamcha-- you must understand--"

"I will not understand!" Yamcha's glass shattered against the far wall in his fit of anger.

Bulma flinched and braced herself for a blow. Her husband approached her, his brown eyes searching for a discreet area in which to conceal a bruise. Finally, his gaze came to rest on her thin waistline, and soon enough Bulma was doubled over in excrutiating pain.

"You are never to act so foolishly again," Yamcha said, stepping away from her and brushing himself off. "Now hurry your lazy ass up and get ready."

Bulma did not move until he had left the room, then allowed herself a moan of pain. Nataliah scurried out of the bedroom, where she had undoubtedly been hiding, to tend to her queen, accustomed to performing this kind of impromptu first aid. She grabbed some ice from the bucket that had held Yamcha's champagne and pressed it to the other woman's waist carefully.

"It will bruise, I'm afraid," she informed softly. "At least he took care to hide the wound."

Bulma, thinking of the happiness she had felt earlier with the Saiyan Prince, frowned. "Sometimes I wonder if it would be better for someone to see, even if it meant that I be punished along with Yamcha."

Nataliah shook her head. "He would not be punished, m'lady. Who is there to punish a king?"

Bulma choked on helpless tears. "What has happened to me?" she asked faintly. "I am not this person-- this woman who allows her husband to abuse her!"

Nataliah fought off her own sympathetic tears. "You may not be, but what choice do you have? You are a woman, Your Majesty-- you have no options."

Bulma thought of Magdalene years ago, in her same position, and the murderous decision that had ended her pain. "But we do. We just may not be ready to live with the consequences."
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Magdalen e watched her son pace the length of her chambers, muttering to himself like some sort of schizophrenic.

She was dressed already in a wrap made of deep emerald silk and embroidered with gold beads and braiding along the hems. Her thick black hair was controlled by an elaborate braid and many jeweled pins. Her son, however, though dressed in the traditional Saiyan battle armor, was nowhere near ready to go to the dinner. He had showered with extra soap-- so much that Magdalene's nostrils burned with the spicy scent. She wondered what he was trying to hide and why he was trying to hide it. Vejita, oblivious to her scruntity, paced on.

"What in the world is bothering you?" Magdalene finally demanded. "You're acting like your father, Kami forbid."

"Are you going to kill me then, too?" Vejita snarled back cruelly.

Magdalene should have been insulted, but she knew better. "Something is clearly bothering you, so I will let that one slide."

Vejita scowled and stopped pacing abruptly. "Why the hell are we wasting our time negotiating with these people if they're just pulling a scam? If I were in charge of this, I would have killed them a long time ago." This was a lie and he knew it, but he chose to keep the information to himself.

Magdalene was not at all sure that this was what her son was so stressed about, but chose to go along with it. "We must act as if they aren't pretending, for the sake of diplomacy. Being the ruler of an empire is not all blood and glory, Vejita, but also diplomacy and elaborated lies."

Vejita crossed his arms but said nothing. His black eyes smoldered, and Magdalene prayed that his temper would hold out until after the introductory dinner.

"I know that you think its all bullshit, but then again so did your father, and look at how his reign turned out."

Vejita turned away from her and glared out of one of her windows at the palace gardens, where he had first gotten the chance to talk to Bulma. He had turned away because he was afraid that his calculating mother would look into his eyes and see everything. He knew that what he and Bulma had done could mean the end of both their empires, and he knew that he was much smarter than to put all of that at risk just because of his physical needs. But he also knew that of all the women he had consorted with, none had cast such a lasting sensation as Bulma. And none had known nor cared about his song.

"I will stop bothering you, Vejia, but only because I know that you aren't and never will be like your father," Magdalene said, coming up behind him to rest a hand on his muscular arm. "I just get scared sometimes. You can hardly blame me, though. I've witnessed an entire reign go to hell because of a man's selfish impulses and thoughtless mistakes. I know better than to expect the same you."

Vejita's gaze remained fixed out the window, and for once his cold heart felt bitter regret for what he had done. If only Magdalene knew.
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Rhapsody~*
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