Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unfaithful ❯ Part Four: 22 ( Chapter 22 )

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

..................................U N F A I T H F U L

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



________________________~* Part Four*~: War
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Turles knew that he was in for it the moment he stepped into the room, and not just because of the mildly raised ki signatures, either. Truthfully, the Saiyan council looked pathetic.

Queen Magdalene sat stoicly on her throne, her famous green eyes somber as she stared out a window at the capital city. Her jaw was clenched, and apprehension was evident in her demeanor. She was most likely thinking of the little human, if Turles knew her.

Radditz and Nappa held completely different expressions on their tanned faces. Both looked ready to spring into military action at any moment, and thirsted for human blood on their hands. Part of Turles felt that way, too, but unlike them, he had more control over his primal Saiyan instincts. He had always prided himself on being a less impulsive individual.

Kakkarott sat on one of the steps leading up to the platform where the thrones stood, beside but not too close to his father. He, at least, had the decency to look worried about the impending war. Most people knew him to be just a goofy blockhead, but at times Turles was certain that the man had more to him than that, and he was proving that theory correct now. Out of everyone, Turles pitied him the most because he had made the potentially fatal mistake of letting Vejita's girl slip through his fingers. Frankly, Turles was surprised to see him alive and breathing.

Bardock alone appeared to be prepared for the war. He shuffled through papers and folders hurriedly, muttering to himself as he did so. That was Bardock for you-- always organized. Turles couldn't imagine how the man would put Bulma and Vejita's affair down in his meticulous records, but he was sure that it would be amusing to find out. Later, of course.

So far, the council had been predictable, but it was Prince Vejita who changed all that. Turles' blood ran cold at the sight.

The prince sat in a dark corner of the room, away from everyone else, his ki a flaming halo of angry red light around him, giving him the appearance of one of the evil demons that Turles' mother had warned him about as a troublemaking child. The man's black eyes had glazed over, and he stared blindly ahead of himself, as if seeing into a different dimension entirely. His usually olive complexion had gone ashen and pale, and his entire body was coiled, as though he were on guard for an attack. His whole demeanor reeked fury-- it seemed to come off him in waves. If Turles had thought that things had been bad before, then he wasn't sure what to think now. He had never prepared himself to see the strong and arrogant Prince Vejita sitting in a corner, looking fairly defeated.

When he entered, the room erupted in a flurry of mixed reactions. Radditz and Nappa jumped up, demanding to know if Yamcha had gone so that the war could get started already, and Kakkarott and Bardock asked if Bulma was alright. Magdalene remained seated on her throne, glancing worriedly over at her son to gauge his reaction. The Saiyan Prince said nothing, just shifted his emotionless gaze over to where the commotion was. The only betrayal of his interest was his tail, which uncurled from around his waist and flicked impatiently to and fro with a life of its own. They all clearly expected Turles to speak now.

"She's still breathing," he informed them with a frown. It was a characteristically sullen reply for him. After all of the strange changes going on around here, he wanted to make things as normal as possible for himself. "That's what you wanted to know, right?" He then turned his attention away from them and instead concentrated on finding a comfortable place to sit. That is, until a Saiyan freight train hit him.

"Don't play games with me, you cocky son of a bitch!" Turles found himself at the mercy of his violent prince, held by a gloved hand at his throat. The man's eerie red ki surrounding them both with an uncomfortable heat. Vejita's intense glare scared the shit out of him, though he hated to admit it.

"Whoa there, Vejita-sama!" he said cautiously, holding up his hands in defense. "I didn't mean to mess with you. I assure you, Queen Bulma will survive the ordeal."

"Elaborate."

"The bastard dragged her by the hair to the docks, then he made her stand like a fucking slave. Then he hit her a couple of times-- you know, bashed her around a bit. Then she stood up to him and defended our planet. He asked if she had picked up sarcasm from you, then he split her lip open." Turles swallowed at the mounting wrath in Vejita's eyes. "Then she turned around and saw me. Yamcha assumed that she was looking for you, and said that you wouldn't risk your neck for a woman who was nothing more than good fuck. Then she said something amusing-- something about wanting to be there to watch you kill him."

"She's catching on fast! She'd make a good Saiyan, if she keeps it up!" Radditz exclaimed. When he received six black looks, he shut his mouth.

Turles continued. "Then he fucking jumped her and I thought that it was all over, but then he stopped choking her when she told him off like a stubborn little spitfire. Never thought I'd see her do something ballsy like that. Well, he dragged her to the ship anyway, then knocked her out cold. Sorry Vejita-sama, but her face isn't so perfect anymore."

Silence as the group absorbed the depressing account, then Vejita released his hold on Turles, much to the other man's relief.

"You're sure that she got a good look at you?"

Turles nodded.

"Its too bad that your sorry ass had to be the last thing that she saw, but at least the woman knows that I was watching."

Magdalene nodded in agreement, thinking back to her own days a victim to her husband's nonexistent mercy. "It may be the only thing that will comfort her during the long nights to come. May Kami watch over the poor girl and shield her from harm."

"She'll make it physically," Turles assured her. Then, more somber, to Vejita, "But mentally... there's only so much that someone can take." His dark eyes went to the floor, thinking of what a waste it all was. Yamcha was slowly ruining the best thing that had ever happened to him-- to all of them.

The prince wanted to appear emotionless, he really did. He wanted nothing more than for them to think that he was handling it coolly, but as Turles had said, you could only take so much. So, much to everyone's surprise, he gave up control and shouted in frustration, his ki bordering on Super Saiyan at the thought of Bulma returning to him as a lifeless shell of a woman, silent and withdrawn into herself. The council winced, each hoping that he would be able to keep himself in check. "When I get my hands on that weak little motherfucker, he'll wish that he had never laid eyes on the woman!" And they all believed him. He had killed for less.

"You would do best to control your temper for now," Magdalene advised wisely. "Before revenge is executed, plans must be made. And for that, we must all keep a cool head."

"Maybe it would be better if we gave him some time--" Kakkarott started, sympathetic for his friend.

"No," Magdalene cut him off. "You don't seem to understand, none of you! For every moment that we speak, Bulma is withstanding unspeakable pain, and Yamcha's armies are gaining strength. It would be wise not to waste any more time on mindless bickering."

The others nodded, but Vejita did not. There was a look in his eyes that worried Magdalene more than any number of screams could have.

"I have no interest in your methodic planning," he snarled, starting to back away from them, towards the door. "I want to be alone, away from all of you imbeciles..."

"But, Vejita--"

Magdalene's protest was met with a slam of the great doors behind Vejita, and a wave of sorrow for his sake.

"Don't attempt to follow him," she ordered, staring after him. "He needs to be alone with his fears."
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Vejita didn't consciously decide where he wanted to go. After exiting the room, his feet just took control, and before he realized where they were taking him, he found himself at the doorway of Bulma and Yamcha's original set of chambers. Seeing that a part of him apparently wanted to enter, he opened the doors and went inside.

Upon entering the rooms, he immediately had the impulse to leave. The smell of Bulma and her sweet perfume was strong in his Saiyan nostrils, and with the lingering smell of Nataliah's blood, it would have been enough to send any weaker person back out. But by no means was Vejita a weak man. He moved boldly forward into the room, taking in his surroundings silently.

Yamcha had apparently packed in a hurry, because all of the closets and drawers were open and half full with belongings. Bulma's vanity was still cluttered with cosmetics, and her multi-colored array of wraps were scattered on the closet floor. Half-heartedly, to relieve some of his stress, he smashed the mirror into thousands of tiny shards with his hands and cleared the desk of all the material things that had been the bane of Bulma's existence. The sound of the cosmetics breaking on the floor didn't help as he had thought it would. Vejita had no concerns for such things, as he knew that Bulma despised all things that made her feel like a china doll. But when he moved on and sighted Bulma's perfume on the bathroom counter, something stirred in him.

He clearly recalled Bulma's childish excitement when she had purchased the bottle, and the way her cheeks had flushed with pleasure at the floral scent. But an even more poignant memory was the smell as it had lingered that first night in his room, heightening the emotion of their lovemaking with its girlish innocence, something that Bulma would have given anything to possess.

Disgusted with his own 'weak' emotions, Vejita turned away from the counter and the bottle, only to come face-to-face with the bloodstained tub that his latest victim had lay in. The guards hadn't done much of a job cleaning up-- either that or they had been interuppted by Yamcha's hasty packing.

Bulma's horrifyed expression and tears over the maid's death were like salt in an open wound to the prince. He had never intended for her to be the one to discover the handmaiden's body, but luck had not been on his side. Thankfully, she did not seem to harbor any hard feelings against him for the crime. After all, it was committed so that she too would be spared punishment. And look how nicely that had turned out. But still, Vejita held a small bit of remorse for being the cause of her stress. It would be the first time he had ever regretted killing anyone, but unfortunately it would not be the last.

He then exited the bathroom and moved out onto the balcony, where doubtlessly Bulma had spent many an occasion dreaming about what could have been. From here, Vejita had a nice veiw of the ocean, and the places where he had taken Bulma to enjoy the sea without having to worry about anyone judging her. In that way, Vejita could most definitely relate to her, because he too went to the coast when he wanted to be alone. If all continued going downhill as it had, he would be down there quite often.

In the distance, the sound of a ship leaving the planet could be detected by his sensitive hearing. Somehow, he knew that it was the humans' ship, and his ki rose in frustration. He should have been there instead of Kakkarott, guarding her when Yamcha had come to take her away! He would not have failed. Guns were no matter to him and his Super Saiyan power. He would have ripped Yamcha apart, and the woman would be here with him now instead of being tortured by the likes of Yamcha on a ship taking her back to a planet that she did not like, and that held danger and misery for her. He found himself wishing that he had been able to deny his pride and refused to give Yamcha time to leave. Fuck his Saiyan honor-- in this case, it was not worth it!

Angrily, he slammed his fists onto the sturdy marble railing, and millions of hairline cracks split the dark stone. He would plot the perfect revenge, he swore to himself, even if it meant bringing down both empires. He would make it known that nobody messed with the Saiyan Empire if they wanted to live.

And best of all, he would get his mate back.
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When Bulma regained consciousness, she found herself on the floor of one of the ship's large, empty meeting rooms. Blinking to adjust her eyes to the bright fluorescent lighting, the woman sat up slowly, every inch of her body aching from both her injuries and the cold, hard floor.

All that occupied the room with her was a long table, one lone chair, and the enormous floor-to-ceiling window that revealed her worst fear. Space. Vast, empty space. They had left Vejitasei.

Bulma knew that she had to conserve what little energy that she had in case Yamcha came back anytime soon, so she sluggishly lifted herself to her hands and knees and crawled over to the window. Then she seated herself in the front of the window, facing the outside. Blue eyes desperately searched the skies for a sign of Vejita-sei, and her broken heart dared to hope that perhaps she would see a ship following them, a ship containing Vejita and his council, who would save her, but there was none.

All that Bulma could see was a small red planet in the distance, a sign of just how far apart she and Vejita were now, and would likely be forever. Stifling her sobs, Bulma turned away from the window and pulled her knees to her chest, and set her chin on her folded arms. Her hot tears spilled over her chin and dripped to the floor, tainted and miscolored with her dark eye makeup. Forlornly, she watched as the drops pooled on the floor beneath her.

She hated herself for being so weak. The first thing she was doing in the face of adversity was crying like a broken woman. Vejita would definitely not do such a thing-- he was probably boldly making war plans, not letting his emotions hold him back for even a minute. Just the thought of him going through all the trouble of war for her made the queen want to curl up and die.

If this was what beauty got you, then she didn't want it. She thought of Kakkarott's plain-faced Chichi, who had probably never had to worry about anything more than what she was going to bake for Kakkarott next. What she wouldn't give to be like that right now.

But wasn't a 'broken woman' what Bulma really was? She had given up hope years ago, after she and Yamcha's engagement was announced,and she hadn't had the strength in her to fight since. So, technically, Yamcha had broken her-- both physically and mentally.

Bulma shook her head at her own stupidity. What was she doing, trying to justify her tears? She had lost everything. Her world had come crashing down, as well as Yamcha's fists. She had nothing left to do but cry. She had been left no choice but to give up, to succumb to her tragic fate.

The bruised, tear-streaked face turned back to the window. Outside the confinement of the ship, stars twinkled and planets floated in the distance. Once upon a time, the heavenly bodies had given Bulma hope during her darkest hours, but now... they were nothing but collections of dust in the distance, their serenity untouchable and unattainable by the likes of her.

But when she had been with Vejita, her hope had returned, and she had dared to dream. The Saiyan Prince was undoubtedly a man she never would have pictured herself becoming involved with (partly because she had never met anyone quite like him before), but somehow, the match felt right. It felt better than anything she had experienced in her whole life. And even better than that was the fact that out of all the women in the universe, even the more easily had ones, he had chosen her, war-hungry husband and all. Around him, she felt protected.

And look at where they were now-- lightyears apart from each other, each getting a punishment of their own-- Bulma's being torture, his being the stress of combat-- and each sharing similar heartache. Bulma looked to the vast expanse of space that lay between them and tried to think of what it was that she had done to invoke Kami's malice.

Noises from the hallway cut her thoughts short. Through the doors, she could hear Yamcha barking out orders to his guards, no doubt planning for their return to Earth. Instinctively, the queen knew that his next stop would be her, and pressed herself closer to the cold glass like a frightened child. Fear took hold of her entire body-- fear of Yamcha beating her to slowly to death, savoring her pain.

Sniffling, Bulma stared at the tiny spot that was Vejitasei and pressed her palm to the window, as if trying to reach out and touch the faraway planet. Her fingers trembled and uselessly gripped the glass, but she didn't care.

She just wanted somebody-- anybody-- to come and save her.
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Rhapsody~*
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(A/N): Hi guys! I hope that you all like the quick update... To tell you the truth, I finished this chapter in a few hours. Maybe because I've been planning for these chapters for almost six months now... LOL! Well, at least something is getting done. On FF.net, anyway. I still haven't been able to update the last couple chapters on Mediaminer... -_-;; But anyway, I must be on a musical roll here because I was listening to the Fuel CD when I was typing Vejita's POV, and that song "Hemorrhage (In My Hands)" fits him so well. I think so, anyway. ^_~ Geez, maybe I SHOULD make an 'Unfaithful' soundtrack. LOL! And wow! Almost 400 reviews!!! I could die right here and now! THANKS... SOO... FRICKIN... MUCH! You all are way too good to me. Maybe that motivated me to write fast... oh well. I'll stop babbling and get on with it already, ok? Ja ne, and please remember to tell me what you think! Until the next chapter...


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