Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unfaithful ❯ Part Four: 25 ( Chapter 25 )

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

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



________________________~*Part Four*~: War
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The early morning sun cast warm, dappled light over the just-awakening people of Vejitasei. The cheery atmosphere belied what a dark night the Saiyan council had had, a fact that only irritated them more. But no one was quite as restless as Queen Magdalene.

She paced the small courtyard area of her gardens, waiting for Bardock to arrive. He had sent word to her at the crack of dawn, requesting a 'private meeting', whatever that meant. It was also rather strange that he would choose this of all places to meet her at. Why here, where only the most confidential of Magdalene's discussions took place?

In a way, she was glad that he had set this up. It appeared that she hadn't been the only one to sense the danger in the air the previous night. No, there was no mistaking it-- something had transpired within the palace under the cover of darkness, and there was no doubt in Magdalene's mind that it did not bode well for the impending war. Bardock had always been a very observing man; maybe he had discovered what had happened.

"Morning, Your Majesty."

Magdalene turned and smiled wryly at her old friend. "I can't help but notice that you did not call it a 'good morning', Bardock."

"I cannot label it something that it is not, my lady."

"So you felt it, too." Magdalene sat down and motioned for him to do the same. "Please tell me that you know what happened."

Bardock looked grim. "I'm not sure that you want to hear it."

Delicate brows snapped together. "Don't dance around the point-- come to it. Of course I want to hear."

"I was on my way to the training facility last night to work off my nerves, and naturally, I passed Prince Vejita's chambers." Magdalene's eyes narrowed at the mention of her son, and the possibility that he was the cause of her dark feelings, but remained silent as Bardock spoke. After all, it was not like her to jump in before hearing an opinion. "And exiting them was none than Turles, and he looked like he was about to carry out the orders of Satan himself. I mean, the man actually stopped and vomited from what I assume to be nervousness." Magdalene's stomach dropped-- Vejita and Turles plotting together was never a good thing, especially in the midst of war. "We both know that Turles doesn't startle easily. Nothing short of a mass murder plot could get him shaken up. I don't like it, Your Majesty. Vejita is too affected by all of this to be trusted with last minute war plans. For all we know, he and Turles could be planning an invasion for tonight, or an alliance with Frieza, or--"

"That's quite enough, Bardock!" Magdalene stopped, her expression tight and disbelieving. "I refuse to believe that my son is dabbling in such evil conduct. Its not in his character."

Bardock was not so sure. "He isn't in his right mind now, Magdalene. And besides, think of his father-- geneticts are inevitable, you know."

"My son is nothing like that... that manipulating piece of filth!" Magdalene shouted suddenly, knocking her cup of tea and plate clattering to the ground. Her bright green eyes flashed with just-barely contained fury. "How dare you compare the two, Bardock Son! What right have you to come here and accuse him of such crimes?"

"I am on your council, but first and foremost Magdalene, I am your friend," Bardock spoke calmly. "I would never think of it if I didn't have legitimate reasoning behind it. You know that."

Magdalene did not react for a moment, just standing there, frozen in one emotion. Then, she took a deep breath and sat down again. "I know, Bardock, and I'm sorry. I wouldn't have acted up so much if I didn't think that there might be a bit of truth behind your claim. I admit, the same thought had crossed my mind, but I still cannot believe that he will be the cause of any real danger."

"I understand." Bardock sounded sincere, but no amount of motherly defense could convince him that Vejita was completely innocent. The reaction from Turles was just too bizarre. But in this matter, he had no choice. "I just think it wise to keep a close eye on those two for the time being. Even an innocent prank could trigger chaos right now."

Magdalene agreed grudgingly, then glanced forlornly down at her spilled tea. "Damn my Saiyan temper. The next time I attempt to knock something over, by all means stop me."

Bardock had to smile. "That I can do."

Something he couldn't stand to do-- sit around and wait for something to happen. But he had no choice. All that he could do was wait.
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The palace had changed during their visit to Vejitasei, or at least it looked so in Bulma's eyes. Besides the obvious hustle and bustle of war planning and soldier-appointing, things were different.

The white marble of the floors and gray walls were almost unbearably bland and boring. The tapestries and paintings depicted dull landscapes and sugarcoated scenes of history that had undoubtedly happened quite differently. The rooms seemed small and badly decorated, and the lighting was far too bright to display the gaudy, overpriced decor in its best light. All of these things stuck out to Bulma now. She had come to a rude awakening-- what Earth lacked was culture and diversity.

But even more different than the surroundings was the people. They all looked the same-- men dressed in plain, dull colors and identical styles, pale and unmuscled, and the women all tied up in corsets and dresses that wore the woman, not the other way around. Their hair was tightly pinned, their faces caked with makeup, and never did they even think of doing anything to attract attention to themselves. And their skin-- nearly transluscent! Bulma had noticed these things before, but they had never been as clear to hear as they were now.

Another realization-- she could never live among all of this blandness. Not that she had the will to try.

The sight of Yamcha leading her around in chains was enough to make even the most demure of nobles balk and chatter under their breath. And only adding to that was her wild appearance-- torn Saiyan wrap, disheveled hair, red eyes, bruises, and cuts made her look like a savage to them. But of course, no one attempted to help her. The thought probably hadn't even crossed their minds. But as sure as Bulma knew her own name was the fact that word would have gone through the palace in under an hour. No, there would be no help for Bulma here.

"Home sweet home!" Yamcha exclaimed as he led her into the room of their destination-- the throne room. Unfortunately for Bulma, the room was not empty. She would have rather had it full of nobles than occupied by this one person. "Lady Briefs, how were you during our extended absence?"

Lady Briefs stepped down from her temporary place on the throne and started towards them, her face almost as tight as her corset. "How do you think?" she snapped. "Things went smoothly enough until you sent word of war. It was all I could do to keep the people under control. The thought of battle with the Saiyans frightened them."

"Good," Yamcha replied. "They should be scared. It will keep them on their toes."

Rather than address Yamcha's statement, Lady Briefs' cold blue eyes rested on her daughter. At the sight of her poor condition, she shook her head as if it were entirely Bulma's fault. For her part, Bulma remained numb and stared ahead with dead eyes. "Kami, girl, whatever did you do to yourself? You look awful. And what on Earth are you wearing?"

Yamcha answered for her. "I didn't have time to change her out of the Saiyan rags. As for what she did to herself, I'm sure that you were able to come to a conclusion after reading my letter."

"Oh yes," Lady Briefs assured him, her accusing, judgemental eyes never leaving her daughter. "I can only imagine how terrible this trip has been on you. Would you mind excusing us for a moment, my king? Don't worry about her restraints-- she has nowhere to go right now."

Yamcha shrugged and handed the chain to her, then exited the room, where he chatted with a guard.

Disgusted, Lady Briefs examined Bulma. "Of all the idiot things to have done," she hissed, her voice dripped with malice. "How could you foul our good name and reputation this way? Sleeping with the Saiyan Prince, the worst of them all! Its an act that suits you, I suppose. You always were a little slut, though I do hear that the man is mildly good-looking."

Vejita's strong hands and smooth, tanned skin against her own... Bulma could only feel that. Not her mother's scornful tirade.

"But nonetheless, he is a barbarian and our enemy. And you are a married woman." Lady Briefs gave the chain around Bulma's neck a sharp yank to emphasize her words. "You are lucky that you have a pretty face, or Yamcha would hang you for your crimes."

"I almost wish that he would," Lady Briefs continued. She didn't seem to possess even a speck of motherly compassion. "Because then I could finally be rid of you and your foolishness."

Nothing. Bulma felt nothing.

"You are an abomination! A waste of breathing air. If it weren't for your attractiveness and the fruits that could be reaped from it, you would be nothing. I would have smothered you in your sleep long ago so that I wouldn't be burdened with your idiotic wants and needs. Or else I would have dumped you in the street, where you could at least get payed for being such a whore!"

Piano music. Waves lapping against the shore. The simple joy of dancing to the loud Saiyan drums. Glittering stars. Warm, protected arms around her...

"If I could, I would send you to rot in hell with your good-for-nothing father. I would--"

"Lady Briefs!" Yamcha had returned, with a guard following behind him. "Come now-- Bulma must be dressed and cleaned up. Then we are to go look over my new troops."

Bulma's mother was annoyed by the interupption, but did not protest. She was not in charge anymore. "Of course. How do you want her dressed?"

Yamcha looked over Bulma's slender body with a greedy smile. "To the nine's, my lady. Shouldn't our queen always look her best, even when healing from Prince Vejita's merciless attack?"

Lady Briefs imitated her conniving smile with one of her own. "She shall look like an angel, then. Even if she hasn't behaved like one."

The king's smile faded. "That will be dealt with later. For now, she is to look flawless."

Magdalene's kind green eyes. Nappa and Radditz laughing, and Turles glaring at them as though he weren't laughing inwardly at their crude humor. Kakkarott's impish grin. Almost like a real family. Vejita smirking, not even once giving a thought to what everyone else thought of him. Magnolia trees swaying in a warm, fragrant breeze.

"Come on," Lady Briefs snapped as she led Bulma from the room impatiently. "Its about time that we get you into proper attire again."

Pain as the woman's long fingernails dug into her tender skin, then more as the chain around her neck was picked up and tugged on by Yamcha. Bulma only briefly thought of resisting, but with another pull on the chains, Yamcha had banished the feeble idea.

"I can only imagine how wonderful it will feel to be properly clothed again," Lady Briefs commented as they went along at their brisk pace. "Those Saiyan garments are just awful."

The thought of being locked up and suffocated in a corset again made Bulma want to pick out a noose for herself, saving Yamcha and her mother the trouble. Here she was again-- back to her cage after tasting just enough freedom to leave her depressed and craving for more. Was she forever destined for disappointment and misery? Would she ever feel the sun warm her skin again? 'The caged songbird never sings...' Was that what she had become?

They had arrived at Bulma's rooms now, and Yamcha left them after conversing with her mother under his breath. Giving her directions as to how he wanted her to look, no doubt. And from the looks of it, Lady Briefs was all too happy to comply.

"He wants you to look vulnerable, innocent," the noblewoman scoffed once he was out of earshot. "He wants to arouse pity from the soldiers, to motivate them."

Bulma had already known this. She remained a shell, silent and monotonous.

"Speak when spoken to!" her mother scolded. Bulma knew better-- she just wanted to hear her daughter cower and go along with her plans. So predictable. "Stop your pouting, girl. The Saiyans will be here soon enough, and then they will be slaughtered, out of our lives forever. Thank Kami for that!"

Bulma was led into a her old chambers-- the dull, conformed box that she had never really felt welcome in, and then straight back to her dressing room. She was a little surprised that she hadn't been taken to she and Yamcha's chambers initially, then she realized-- nothing in that wardrobe was quite right for a woman who wanted to look vulnerable and innocent. Black lace and elaborate red gowns weren't exactly pity-inducing.

Lady Briefs wasted no time. Immediately she motioned for a waiting maid to undress Bulma, then searched through the closet for an ensemble. The maid did her best to hide her shock at the state of Bulma's body, but to the queen it was plain as day that she was stifling gasps as she uncovered more of her queen's unhealed wounds. If she had been herself, Bulma might have been ashamed. When she had been stripped down to nearly nothing, Lady Briefs emerged from the closet holding a simple (by her standards, anyway), lacy white gown.

"This should do," she said, then picked up the corresponding corset and grinned. The maid took the garments and started to dress Bulma, careful of her injuries. It made for slow progress-- too slow for Lady Briefs. "Never mind the bruises-- I am looking for efficiency here. And make that corset tight-- our queen must be able to appear as slim as possible."

"Yes, m'lady."

Bulma had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as the maid began to lace the corset over her sore torso. Her blue eyes lifted to the ceiling as she prayed for the strength not to faint. Then the real pain began. As was customary, the maid tightened the contraption with a series of bone-crushing jerks. The pain was enough to cause the room to spin before Bulma's eyes, and to weaken her knees. Bulma could not stop herself from groaning this time. At this sound of pain, Lady Briefs looked smug.

"Now you are paying for your crimes. And believe me, corsets are the least of it. Soon, you'll be wishing that that was all you had to endure."

For the first time since arriving, Bulma gathered up the last of her courage and spoke up to her mother. "I hope that they eat you alive, Mother."

Lady Briefs raised a perfectly-shaped brow, her arms crossed over her chest. "From what I hear, I wouldn't put it past them. Animals-- thats what they all are."

Bulma gritted her teeth in anger. "They are less animal than you are," she said in a whisper. Lady Briefs either did not hear or pretended not to.

"Finish dressing her," she ordered the maid. "Then call me. The queen has business to attend to."
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Exhaustion both physically and mentally from he and Turles' intense sparring session motivated Vejita to limp back to his chambers for a nap.

Now usually, Vejita was not the napping kind. He generally considered it to be a waste of time that could be better spent on more important things, which these days consisted of planning for war, thinking about war, and conniving over a war. But now that he and Turles' plans were all laid out and in place, a nap didn't seem like such a bad idea, especially when he thought of who might be awaiting him in dreamland.

Vejita had to crack a tight smile at this. It would be hard for anyone to believe that the cold, arrogant Prince Vejita was actually capable of missing someone, but it was true. With every moment that passed, his rock heart hardened a little more. Thoughts of her plagued him every waking moment, and he hadn't even been apart from her for more than a day and a half. If he hadn't been so hell-bent on exacting his revenge and ripped her from her husband's grasp, he would have berated himself for thinking such 'weak' thoughts. Before meeting Bulma, thoughts to him were the things that weakened a man's resolve, prevented him from dedicating himself completely to his cause. He hadn't had any use for them before. But now...

Bright, golden sunlight cast his room in a cheery glow, despite all of the unhappiness that was lurking in the palace as of late. Vejita hated it. He hated how it reminded him of how depressing it was that life had to keep going on, throwing obstacle after fucking obstacle into his way. But most of all, he hated it because of its beauty-- a beauty matched and surpassed by the very object of his grief.

Queen Bulma.

The prince, as if knowing and anticipating the woman's presence in his private dreamland, fell asleep almost as soon as he stretched out on one of his couches. As predicted, he met his match in his dream, but he would soon find that he would have much rather decided not to take a nap.

He was walking in an enormous battlefield, which he somehow knew was on Earth, dressed in the traditional Saiyan battle armor that he and his forefathers had proudly always worn in war, and his hands and sword were coated in blood. Human blood. The smell encouraged him, driving him faster across the scene of carnage.

Judging by the mangled corpses at his feet, which were equally human and Saiyan, the war had not been won yet. The deciding factor remained to be seen. But he could not help but smirk anyway-- after all, he was still alive and virtually unharmed!

It wasn't until he reached the edges of the area that he glimpsed what was really happening. The bodies were piled all the way up to the palace steps, which was where Vejita stood now. And upon those steps was Bulma. Apparently, this was to be the sight of the last battle.

Bulma was not alone. Standing on either side of her was Yamcha, sword in hand, and an older woman that Vejita guessed was her mother. And guarding them were the three human soldiers. Pathetic. But Vejita dared not move, because quicker than eyes could follow, Yamcha grinned and placed his weapon against Bulma's fragile throat.

The woman looked worse than he had imagined. She wore the tattered, dirty remains of what had once been a tight blue corset and slip and sported bare, calloused feet. Her hair was in a tumbling disarray around her shoulders. Her body, her perfect, flawless body, was bruised and excessively frail. The rose-petal lip-- split and cracked. And her eyes! The normally clear blue things were dead, devoid of any signs of life, staring blindly ahead of her. Her scent that carried over to him was not of wildflowers, but rather of fear, pain, and rape. Rape... that was what accounted for her undergarments. And for the broken look of her. Vejita's blood boiled.

"Its about time you showed up," Yamcha taunted, glancing up from his sword at Bulma's throat. "We were just about to discuss some important matters."

"Such as?" Vejita didn't know why he had asked. He was just a bystander in this dream, apparently.

"Bulma's life. You see, her punishment has not been sufficiently carried out yet." Yamcha paused for a moment. "And, come to think of it, neither has yours. Rape is a capital offense, you know."

"You would be a good one to ask."

The older woman-- Bulma's mother-- rolled cornflower blue eyes. "Enough talk, Yamcha. Just kill her. One iota of pressure, and all of your troubles will be gone."

"Not yet!" Yamcha snapped. "I want to make it good. It has to be worthy of all this trouble."

"I dare you to do it!"

The small group turned to face the new speaker, who turned out to be Magdalene. Vejita noticed that she was escorted by Nappa and Radditz, who looked to be awaiting her command to do something. Oh yes, overthrow her. Why hadn't he done it yet?!

"You would no more use that weapon on her than you would on yourself," the Saiyan queen continued. "Whatever power that your empire has is due to her. Without your fair wife, your subjects would rebel in an instant."

'Without Bulma'... Somehow, the comment stuck out as significant in Vejita's mind.

"Drop your weapon, Human King, or I shall have my guards take you down."

Bulma's mother cackled. "Drop his weapon? Not likely." She held out her hands to Yamcha. "Give me the sword-- I will do what you lack the courage to."

Yamcha hesitated, shooting glances down at his pretty wife, then back up at Bulma's mother. "I don't know--"

He was cut short by the older woman snatching the sword from his grasp and wielding it in her own. Menacingly, she hovered the blade over Bulma's exposed throat. Vejita met the queen's eyes, and witnessed a single tear slide down her cheek.

Seeing that he was about to prevent the execution with an attack, Magdalene stopped him. She was holding him back with her unwavering emerald eyes.

"Do not attack her! Violence is not necessary! Its only a last resort, remember? I am the ruler of Vejitasei, therefore you must obey my orders!"

Vejita tried to fight, to disobey and leap forward at Lady Briefs, but try as he might, he could not. Magdalene would not allow an attack.

Right before the inevitable deadly strike, Bulma suddenly lifted her chin to look straight into his eyes. Her own blue orbs were deep pools of sadness and the wisdom that only those in their final moments possessed.

In a clear, yet quiet voice, she spoke these final words: "A life without love is a life that is not worth living."

And then, with a triumphant smile, Lady Briefs murdered her daughter.

At that moment, Vejita awoke with a start, almost going Super Saiyan in his rage. What a dream. He hadn't ever felt so helpless in his life.

Magdalene had been holding him back in his dream just as she was in real life, and look what had become of that! What if the dream hadn't been a dream at all, but rather a vision? If that were the case, then he could not afford to sit idle and follow his mother's pacifist ways.

His mind full of plans, Vejita stood and stormed across the room, where he closed all the curtains, cutting off all of the cheery light. In a way, he was hiding himself from his conscience as well, because what he was about to do was by now means kind. He felt that he was closing himself off from Bulma and her ironic innocence. He did not want her to see what he was going to do next for fear that she would only see the act, not the man or the emotion behind it. But if she did, could he really blame her?

After all, overthrowing your own mother in wartime wasn't exactly what you would call an honorable act.
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Rhapsody~*
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(A/N): There ya go, a longer chapter! Will Vejita's horrible dream really come to play in real life? Will he successfully take Magdalene's thrown out from under her? I guess you'll have to wait and see... ^_~ The next chapter is completed, I just have to type it up and post it. I'm shooting for the end of the week, but you can never be too sure, because I have been sooooo busy lately. Keep an eye out for it.

And yet another thanks to everyone who reviewed and gave me suggested readings. I especially enjoyed Camaro's "Dark Angel", which I've been (miraculously) missing for the past what, two years? Haha! Well, if you haven't read it (in other words, if you're sheltered like me) then please go do so. She's a great writer.

So, please remember to review, and see ya in the next chapter...


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