Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unfaithful ❯ Part Four: 26 ( Chapter 26 )

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

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



________________________~*Part Four*~: War
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The Saiyan council assembled quickly and quietly in the throne room, each person feeling the tension building up in the atmosphere due to the war, and perhaps they also felt that this gathering would not be like the rest. They were right in thinking that.

Vejita could not have selected a better occasion to make his move if he had tried. Because not only was the entire council present, but today the elite warriors and a few of the nobles had been permitted to attend. And the more witnesses, the better. Indiscretely, he looked up and across the table at Turles, who gave the slightest nod of his head to acknowledge that he, too, had noted the fabulous turnout. Thankfully, all traces of his earlier qualms had been masked behind a cool, normal facade. All was falling into place.

Turles barely heard Magdalene innocently welcome everyone in her warm, strong voice and assure them that all of their concerns would be attended to later on. Exactly like a ruler should. As she continued her smooth delivery, Turles wondered if installing Vejita to the throne was such a good idea. After all, he highly doubted that Vejita would make endearing speeches and 'attened to' his people's 'concerns'. Hell, the people would be lucky if Vejita didn't make them all slaves to his cause. On second thought, the man corrected, perhaps he was being too harsh. Vejita couldn't be even half so bad as his father was. Could he? As it turned out, he would have no opprotunity to take that into consideration.

"Our armies are strong, our morale high, and our plans underway," Bardock was explaining. In her seat, Magdalene appeared genuinely interested in what her adviser was saying. Would Vejita even give the educated helpers two minutes of his day? "So far as I can see, we are nearly ready for an attack."

"An attack?" one lord asked doubtfully. "Will King Yamcha not attack first? Did he not want to come to initiate a war in the first place?"

Nappa scowled at the man's statement. "The human is too much of a coward to come here. He will lay in wait until we come to him. He wants the home advantage."

"Not that it will make much of a difference," Turles put in. He felt sick and wired up, but in order to appear normal, he had to comment on something. "Our ships are both fast and stealthy. The only advantage they have are their weapons-- their guns. To a typical Saiyan, bullets are nothing. But when we are injured, or unaware, or if they bring out better technology by some chance... we cannot block that."

"Then we will go after their weapon storage areas first," Radditz suggested. "Without technology, humans are weak. All they have are their swords and puny fists."

"We cannot just go on a rampage and slaughter everyone," Magdalene reminded them. "We have Queen Bulma to consider, as well as her followers. Some humans may choose to surrender or fight on our side."

Radditz could not help but laugh. "There's no way in hell that those cowards would think of that!"

Bardock glared at his son. "You dare to challenge your queen's wisdom, Radditz?"

Magdalene looked at Radditz frostily. "I have had premonitions of such an occurence in a dream. I would not have wasted my breath if it were a completely ludicrous idea."

Turles hoped that her premonitions would prove to be true. He was a war-loving Saiyan, true, but anyone could see that this could become unnecessarily messy, especially with Vejita in control of the armies. For once, he really dreaded the prospect of going into battle.

Kakkarott spoke up now for the first time. "I don't like this. I have this... bad feeling. We should try to avoid fighting as much as possible. Yamcha is too desperate-- he could hurt Bulma at any moment."

And this, of course, got Magdalene going. As she began to rally for peace along with Kakkarott and Bardock, Turles noticed the almost evil glint that had emerged in Vejita's eyes. Here was his opprotunity. Not stupid enough to defy the volatile prince, Turles turned to meet the eyes of the elite warriors he had bargained with (they were all personal acquaintances who wisely wished to please Vejita's right-hand man) to alert them of the oncoming storm. They looked eager and ready for their cue.

"I can put an order in for weapons of our own," Bardock was suggesting, trying to compromise. "We could--"

Magdalene was stubborn and indignant. "No, Bardock. What this empire needs is peace and order!"

Then it was time. Suddenly, Vejita smirked satanically and got to his feet. A collective tremor went up the onlookers' spines at the intimidating man. "What this damned empire needs is a new ruler! Someone who can execute a war right, and with some common sense." Before anyone could react, Turles' men got their signal and moved to surround the unsuspecting Magdalene. For their part, the Saiyan council could do nothing but stand by and watch. "I am sick of hearing you people talk about all this 'peace and love for everyone' shit! A war cannot be fought and won that way. Every Saiyan knows that."

Bardock looked absolutely furious, though in his heart he had known all along. "Oh? And how would you fight it? With arrognace and malice?"

Magdalene glared at the warriors who trapped her, seeming to get over her initial shock. "Really, Vejita, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"I am overthrowing you and assuming the throne until I have King Yamcha's head on a silver fucking platter!" Vejita announced to the crowd of people and Magdalene, not one to mince words. "In order to get this done right, its necessary. You are far too soft to do it. If I allowed you, Bardock, and Kakkarott to continue like this, then soon we'd be having tea parties with the human army!"

Even the more bloodthirsty men, such as Nappa, Radditz, and the elite warriors could not bring themselves to feel good about this new development. Prince Vejita was a violent, impulsive man-- it was more than likely that he would prove to be a merciless king. But all that Magdalene could think of was how much her son was reminding her of his father, and that alone took away her will to fight. That and the most powerful of the elites poised around her. The emerald eyes averted to the floor, though her chin remained up.

Vejita, seeing this act of grudging submission, looked gloriously triumphant. "Do you back down as Queen and ruler of Vejitasei?"

Magdalene could not believe that this was happening. Bardock had been right, and now she had no choice. She could only hope that the thought of the fair Bulma would keep Vejita from acting overly reckless. "I step down from my position as ruler," she said monotonously. "But mark my words, no good shall come from violence. For once, the Saiyan empire is wrong. This war will not be so easily won."

"Duely noted," Vejita dismissed carelessly. Then, seeing that his takeover had been successful, he moved slowly to the platform and assumed the larger, grander throne, looking like the very essence of arrogance. It was as if the devil himself had come into the room. In a way, Turles secretly thought, he had. "Now, we have war plans to attend to."

The people gulped and nodded, never meeting their new king's eyes for fear of being tortured or even killed for their insolence. Magdalene had gone ghostly pale, though she could never be mistaken for a cowardly woman.

The new king awaited any ideas from the council, seated proudly on the dark throne. "Any suggestions?"

And so the tumultous reign of Vejita began.
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Yamcha and Lady Briefs came to get Bulma almost a full hour after dropping her off. The human queen had almost forgotten just how long and arduous the process of dressing was here on Earth. And all of that for a 'simple' ensemble!

Bulma wore an almost unbearably tight corset (the effect on her bruised body was excrutiating), a shift to give her skirts a fuller appearance, a ridiculously ornate white gown, and what felt like ten pounds of gaudy diamond jewelry. Apparently Yamcha had missed seeing her 'properly dressed', because he smiled as he looked her over. Bulma felt her skin crawl wherever his gaze touched it, almost as if he were actually touching it himself. Her mother nodded as well, though probably because of the thick layer of makeup that disguised her daughter's sorrowful face.

"You look good, though I'm not sure that white is the best color to appoint troops in," Yamcha commented, speaking more to Bulma's mother than to Bulma herself. "And she really should be wearing a crown."

Lady Briefs gestured to the maid, who rushed off to fetch a crown, then frowned at Yamcha. "No. White is the only color that will do. It enhances her natural beauty, makes her look delicate. Prince Vejita has made her a victim, remember?"

"They why the low-cut gown?"

"Because." Lady Briefs looked impatient. "She cannot look too innocent-- she enjoyed romping with the ape, remember? You are both to look like victims here. Then the soldiers have a choice for whom they fight for. No chance of a rebellion that way."

"You always were a clever woman, my lady," Yamcha complimented with a smile.

Lady Briefs flashed him a conniving smile of her own. Bulma knew that she was savoring how much influence she had over royal affairs. Shallow, yet predictable, of her. "So I hear."

The maid then reappeared and placed a simple silver-and-diamond set crown on Bulma's head. The heavy ornament made Bulma feel like a fool, but her outward expression betrayed nothing.

Then Yamcha took Bulma's arm and linked it with his own. His clammy, weak grip made Bulma sick, but once again, no emotion registered on her ethearal face. Lady Briefs did not accompany them, just watched victoriously as her daughter was led away, her blue eyes twinkling. Bulma hated her with every fiber of her being. How could a mother stand there and watch her daughter being killed from the inside out, all the while doing nothing but smile to herself?

"You're gonna love this part of the war," Yamcha said to Bulma as they left the chambers. "I've got nearly all of the people in the city lined up, waiting to learn their fate. Its a matter of life or death, really. I only expect the trained soldiers to live."

So, he planned to use his innocent, inexperienced citizens as doomed pawns. Bulma knew that they could never even begin to think of how to defend themselves against the ruthless Saiyan army, and that they would probably all be slaughtered. She was hardly surprised, though. She was beginning to understand that people that Yamcha had no limits when it came to violence. An overwhelming pang of hopelessness overcame her then, and if it hadn't been for Yamcha's almost dragging her through the halls, she would have sank to her knees from the weight of it.

Seeing her emotionless face suddenly change as she was almost given to sobs, Yamcha rolled his eyes. "Get over it! There's no hope for you now. If you accept your fate, things will go much easier."

Accept her fate? No, that was the one thing that Bulma's strained heart could not do. Stubbornly, a small part of her still clung to the hope that Vejita would come and save her. She would never accept her fate-- not until she saw Vejita defeated with her own two eyes. She prayed to Kami that she would never live to see that day.

Nobles they passed stopped to stare at the royal couple. Though she was dressed perfectly, there was no mistaking the changes that their queen had undergone. The haunted look in her usually radiant azure eyes was what really threw them though. The queen had never been a smiling, joyful woman, but she had certainly never looked so pathetic before. At least not in public.

Bulma ignored their stares and instead concentrated on keeping herself emotionless. As a final attempt of defiance, she refused to give Yamcha the satisfaction of seeing her mostly negative reactions. Don't think of him, she willed herself. Don't think of Vejita, or you'll be reduced to tears again.

All of her resolve dissipated, however, when they exited the palace and Bulma was treated with a sickening view of the city streets, which were filled with soldiers and citizens alike, the latter being lined up under the wary eyes of the trained men. Perhaps this wouldn't have disturbed Bulma so much if it hadn't been for the young-- oh, so young -- boys among the scrawny human men. The moment that the monarchs emerged, all eyes snapped to attention. Yamcha had had them beaten into submission, most likely. Despite herself, Bulma's wide eyes filled themselves with tears. Blessed were the planets that never saw war.

"Good evening!" Yamcha shouted to them, holding up a hand in greeting. He seemed to be revelling in the attention, though most eyes strayed over to his stunning wife in the pure white dress. "You have all been informed of why it is that you have been gathered here, so I'll keep this short. Its not only your duty, but your privelege to die for your empire. Such is the dream of every honorable warrior." How Yamcha knew this, Bulma could not fathom. "Some of you may complain that you have no reason to fight. Well, all of you, listen to this. While we were striving for peace with the barbarian Saiyans, Prince Vejita was violating your queen-- raping and abusing her mercilessly. For that, he must pay!" Yamcha grinned as a roar went over the crowd, while Bulma nearly quivered with anger at his twisted half-truths. "But, unfortunately, there are two sides to every story. You see, unbeknowest to me, her faithful husband, Queen Bulma was beginning to enjoy Vejita's ministrations. Neither party is innocent in this." Yamcha's voice was drowned out by the dismayed fact that after a victim is tortured for a certain period of time, they begin to develop a sick bond with their oppresser, whether they're good people or not."

"They deserve to know the truth," Bulma spoke quietly, catching Yamcha off guard. "Tell them. I don't care what they think!"

Yamcha rolled his eyes, then turned back to the crowd. "The Saiyans are coming to take your queen and our planet for themselves!" he continued, as if Bulma hadn't even spoken. "In order to hold our own, we must use every able man and boy to fight. No exceptions."

Bulma's tears finally began to fall at the sight of fathers taking the small hands of their innocent young sons into their own, perhaps for the last time. Would they see each other again? was the question on all their faces.

"Now you see what you have caused," Yamcha hissed into her ear. "All of these poor fools will die because of you."

No! Bulma wanted to shout. They are going to die because of you and your ridiculous need for war! But she dared not speak her mind, because she needed to at least look strong for her people.

"How can you sleep at night knowing that you are sending them all to their deaths?" Bulma whispered thorugh trembling lips. "All of those inexperienced, unprepared people..."

Yamcha ran a finger down one of Bulma's arms. "Easily, so long as I am beside you."

"They are ready for your inspection, sir," a soldier informed Yamcha as he moved his finger away from Bulma. "Keep a close eye on them-- they may turn on ya."

"Thats what I have you clowns for!" Yamcha snapped, starting into the street with Bulma close beside him. "See to it that we are protected."

Four guards were appointed to them, and then Yamcha stepped down into the city, strolling along the lines of men and boys, scared and pathetic-looking. The human king eliminated people here and there-- the elderly, the diseased, and the overly scrawny mostly. But the children-- he kept in line. Every child they passed was like a stab to Bulma's heart.

"You think that they are to young," Yamcha observed, stopping before a pale, green-eyed child that could not have been more than nine years of age. "But I think that you'll find them to be quite adequate for the job."

Oblivious to the dangers around him, the child stared at Bulma with wide, amazed eyes. "Are you an angel?" When the white form began to choke on sobs, the little face became concerned. "Why are you crying? Mama told me that angels only cry when something dies. Is someone gonna die?"

Though she was no angel, the little boy was right. Something had died in Bulma. The will to fight. At last, her final defensive walls shattered, and the queen was reduced to hysterical, wracking sobs that hurt within the confines of her corset, which only made her more winded and gasping for air. Yamcha scowled, clearly not expecting this, and motioned for a guard to support her.

"Don't let her go," he ordered coldly. "Well still have more to see."

One by one, Yamcha took her around to each of the soldier-children, and each one stared at Bulma with an identical question in his eyes. Why were they here, standing amongst the men that hadn't even finished raising them yet? But it wasn't just them that asked the question-- their older male comrades (once they got over their staring at Bulma) were old enough to understand, and seemed torn between blaming Yamcha or herself. That ripped Bulma apart inside.

Soon, she wasn't even seeing what was ahead of her, though her slanted blue eyes were wide open. It was like she was suspended somewhere between here and dreamland, seeing only that which caught her fickle attention. She felt safer there, in her soft world of hallucinations laced with reality. Even as her body followed Yamcha around, stumbling over her long skirts here and there, Bulma did not come out of her shell.

Honestly, she didn't know if she ever would.
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The woman roamed inconspicuously through the back alleys of the city, unnoticed by the buffoon guards that were supposed to be watching over the citizen women. It hardly mattered-- she was just going to a place where she could think in peace (well, as much as could be found in wartime) and quiet, not trying to flee out into the countryside, as many had unsuccessfully attempted to do. Besides, she knew exactly how these men thought-- there had been a time in her life when she had lived amongst them and their upper-class families. But that was the past now, everyone's past. All that mattered now was the war.

Damn, she mused as she sidled along through a particularly narrow alley. This was going to be the biggest massacre in Earth's history, and with no doubts about it! War with a rival planet was one thing, but with the Saiyans? That was madness of the kind that only idiots like Yamcha could produce. But then again, what about the alleged relationship between Bulma and Prince Vejita? Yamcha was a bastard, but certainly not that creative. Never in a million years would he have been able to come up with such a perfect excuse for war on his own.

Bulma's broken, hopeless appearance irked her also. If Yamcha had simply pulled a lie out of his ass, then why the lovesick mood? The woman had only seen the queen all moony like that once, and that had been almost a lifetime ago. Had Bulma really taken up with the most feared, violent-tempered man in the universe-- a Saiyan Prince?

At last, she arrived at the outskirts of the city, which were completely empty. All of the people, even the backcountry farmers and men from around the globe had been summoned to the major cities of Earth, preparing for battle. The woman shuddered at the fact that almost all of them would either be slaughtered or seriously wounded, even the women and children. The Saiyans took no prisoners, especially now that rumors were circulating about Prince Vejita perhaps ascending the throne.

And perhaps the most pressing question of all was how the hell mere bullets could defeat the Saiyans and their superhuman strength. When caught off guard, or when he was not surrounded by his ki, a Saiyan could be shot and killed just like a human, though their reflexes were superb. But when they were in war-mode, how could a gun or a sword kill them? True, eventually their energy wouldbe sapped and ki would not longer be an option, but how many humans could a Saiyan slaughter in that time? Too many, the woman thought as she lit up one of her last cigarettes. Yamcha had to be out of his fucking mind.

"Lady Maylene? Is that you?"

The woman started and dropped her cigarette at the sudden question, asked by a familar-looking man who had come up behind her. Scowling, she looked the guy up and down, trying to spark her memory. Tanned skin, boyish smile, concerned, compassionate eyes... "Who wants to know?" she snapped. "And it isn't 'Lady' Maylene anymore, unfortunately. That was my last cigarette that you just ruined, by the way."

The man, dressed in the garb of a citizen turned soldier and wielding a small, unimpressive dagger, faked a smile. "Oh. I guess the tanned skin and long hair changed my appearance more than I had thought." True, his shaggy hair and rough skin were unlike any of the people she had associated with in court.

Maylene raised a thin brow. "Are you gonna tell me or not, Rambo?"

He laughed, and once again Maylene's mind screamed at her to remember. "I am the banished fool formerly known as Lord Byron." He shook his head. "You haven't changed-- though now you can smoke in public."

Had times been normal, Maylene might have been pleasantly surprised, but amongst this cycle of chaos, it was just another small turn of events. "Where have you been?" she asked, then corrected herself. "Or more like, where did Yamcha ship you off to?"

Byron averted his eyes. For a minute, Maylene could see what Bulma had liked in this boyish man, but knew that their heart-wrenching separation might have been for the better. With all of Bulma's coveted beauty, she needed a real man-- a stronger man-- to take care of her. But nonetheless, their young love had been sincere. "To hell and back again. He sent me into slavery halfway across the world, as far from Lady Bulma-- well, Queen Bulma now-- as possible."

Slavery? Maylene felt lucky that all the punishment she had received was a loss of title and luxurious belongings. But then again, she hadn't been the one standing between Yamcha and the ultimate prize-- Bulma. "You've heard the story then, about the war?"

"Yes, I have." Byron looked forlorn. "I heard that Bulma had an affair with the Saiyan Prince and thats what ultimately pushed Yamcha over the edge."

"So they say. Are you all right?"

"As good as can be expected." Byron stared off towards the palace, that sad look still on his face. "I saw Bulma when she got off the ship, and then later when she and Yamcha were inspecting us. She looked right at me, Maylene, without even the smallest sign of recognition."

"Her eyes aren't looking into our world anymore," the woman replied with a little frown of her own. "She's so far gone. I doubt that she's seen much of anything today."

"She looked terrible-- like the walking dead," Byron commented softly. "But she's only gotten more beautiful as time went by. Its not surprise to me that the Saiyan Prince and Yamcha would go to war over her."

Maylene was interested now. "You think thats what started it? Jealousy?"

"I know thats it," was the reply. "I can put two and two together well enough. Remember, I was in love with her, too."

"Was?"

"Was. Is. I don't know. Somehow, ever since we last parted, I've known that it wasn't meant to be. But even though we can't be together... I'll always want her-- dream about her at night."

"You know, there was a time when I would have given anything to be half as attractive as Bulma." Bulma chuckled bitterly at the irony of it all. "But now... I'm content with being the Plain Jane."

Byron dared to look the least bit hopeful. "I don't know, Maylene. With great beauty comes influence and power. And if the Saiyan Prince is charmed enough to go to war for her..."

Maylene slowly started to catch on. "Whose side are you on, exactly?"

"Bulma's."

"The Saiyans will never fight beside humans, rebelling ones or no, dolt! Prince Vejita would tear you apart before you even told him your plans, as soon as he found out that you and Bulma have history together."

Byron glanced meaningfully at the overwhelmed city, bursting with child soldiers and working women. "I have nothing left to lose. Do you?"

Maylene glared at the idiot man before her. How dare he dream? How dare he fill her stone heart with false hope? There was no way to describe it-- he was just a dumb, lovesick man with dusty memories and a testosterone overload. Disgustedly, Maylene backed away from him, rolling her eyes.

"Dare to dream, huh?" she mocked sarcastically. "Come back to the real world, Byron-- we need all the help we can get."

And then she left him, forcing all of his impossible ideas out of her head.
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Rhapsody~*
+ HawaiianBabay@aol.com +
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(A/N): Another long chapter, and a quick update. I think that that's pretty much gonna be how things are going to turn out from now on. Anyway, to the reviewer who guessed that 'the woman' was Maylene, congrats on a clever mind! I can't remember your name (it was a review from a little ways back), but you know who you are. And special thanks to Da Bomb3, who never fails to review! Love ya, and good luck on the fic!

Some people have mentioned that they haven't the slightest clue as to how to say some of these wretched names, so here's a guide for you:

Maylene-- May - leen

Magdalene-- Mag - duh - leen

Byron-- Bye - run

And one last thing-- as always, I am looking for new material to read, preferably fics about Bulma or Vejita, or even better-- both! ^_~ All suggestions will be appreciated, thanks!

Another update in a few days, maybe... Sunday or Monday?? Ciao for now...

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


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