Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unspoken ❯ Friendship ( Chapter 2 )

Unspoken

Chapter 2 - Friendship

I have never been a man known for my patience. As I sit waiting for the woman, I try to remain calm. She is late. I only know this because I am late. I had hoped she would be here, anticipating my arrival, but it seems she has disappointed me. For her sake, this sentiment had better not last.

Brolli returned yesterday evening. I am looking forward to hearing about his disposition upon reentry. Learning of just how irate he is will affect my next move against him. I want to push him, but not hard enough that he will start an uprising immediately. I do not yet have all of my pieces in place to secure his demise. Brolli has many allies, of that much I am infinitely aware, but it will not stop me from seeking my revenge. I hate the man too much.

"Vegeta?" I hear the soft voice of my newest spy whispering my name. Oddly, I like I sound of it. Something about how it resonates on her lips feels abnormally appealing to me.

"You are late," I castigate her. I will not have her thinking this is a partnership in which she may leave me waiting. I am the master in this association and she will do as I say if she wishes to acquire her reward.

"I could not help it. Brolli lingered before his departure." Not surprising, he was furious when I sent a communication to him yesterday ordering that when he returns he must spend every third and sixth evening of the week training the next generation male elites between the ages of seven and twelve. I shall have to depart one evening early to take in the spectacle.

"See that it does not happen again." I know she has no control over the brute, but I will not allow her to believe me forgiving. I am not, by any means. "Sit," I order, and she does, hesitantly. Her cloak bubbles around her, she looks quite ridiculous. "You may remove that if you prefer." I would prefer. I want to see her eyes, all four of them, make certain she is not lying to me.

"No thank you," she coughs as she answers. "I am nursing a rather contagious influenza; I would hate to infect you."

For a moment I am suspicious of her intentions, finding it odd that she refuse a rare allowance, but then it occurs to me that she likely feels more secure behind that sheet. If I looked like a Qreatin, I certainly would. "Then let's not waste any more time. What have you to tell me?"

I hear her release a long breath before recollecting, "Brolli returned yesterday as if in triumph. He brought his crew with him, and they drank, fucked-not each other, Brolli's women-and praised themselves. It was only this afternoon, when he awoke from his hangover that servants realized he was not as pleased as he had us believing the evening before. He threw things and beat some servants, cursing about his depressing lot in life-something about 'whiny brats.' He repeated it this evening, before he departed; I assume it has something to do with where he was going."

I begin pacing as I consider this. So Brolli was trying to appear as though he still had some control over his life. He thinks he can save face before his comrades. No, I will not be having any of that. "Woman," I spin around to look at her, "What was your name?" I find my memory failing me as I watch her rise. She is graceful in her movements, more so than I thought a Qreatin could be.

"Bulma," she reminds me after extensive dithering. Something about this woman seems improper. Her natural scent is not terribly unappealing. I noticed it the evening we met. It was how I realized she was watching me. An exotic feminine aroma had aroused more than my sensitive sense of smell; it was disappointing when I was met with this homely creature. "Thank you for asking," she adds quietly afterwards. "You are good at this."

I feel my right brow arch, "Excuse me?"

"You are good at this, enticing me to believe that I can trust you, that you really care about me. It's the little things, like asking for my name or refraining from striking me. They are very effective tools when trying to get what you want. I estimate that will make you a more intelligent monarch than your father."

I am taken aback by her candor. So I have at least heard right about the Qreatin capacity for intellect. "Yes, well, my mother was a more worthwhile teacher than my father," I find myself casually admitting. I never speak of my mother.

"Yes, I had heard she was a wise woman. Some of the servants in Brolli's household were around when she was first selected to bear the next heir. They said many Saiya-jin women were angered by the match, they believed she deserved better. She was apparently revered by much of the female population for her wisdom, even by Brolli's mother."

"You waste your breath telling me things I am already well aware of," I snap thoughtlessly, angered by her presumptiveness. "Besides, my mother's affinity for the strengthening of her mind before her muscles resulted in her death. Do not make the mistake of believing I hold a similar weakness."

"I heard you mourned her death." She insists on forcing the topic. "You cared more for her than the typical Saiya-jin male does his mother."

I growl and she slaps her jaw shut. "This conversation is getting us nowhere, you are wasting my time."

"No," she has the gall to disagree with me, "I took the time to research you these last few days. I had initially thought better of coming to meet you tonight, but then, after learning more about you, it occurred to me that you are no ordinary Saiya-jin. This vendetta against Brolli, it's personal is it not?"

"My motives are none of your business," my teeth are clenched, my fists turning a ghostly white.

"Brolli was a part of the band that accompanied your father the night he killed your mother. You blame him for her death just as much as you did your father." I slam her against the wall, she cries as she sinks to the ground.

"How do you know all this?" I demand, unsympathetic to her pain.

She coughs, and then chokes out, "One member of the staff, a confidant of mine, served Brolli back when it happened. She said you were off the planet the night he killed her. Did that make you feel partially responsible? Not being here to protect her?"

I punch the rock wall behind her, releasing some of my rage. She cowers, covering her head as some debris falls upon her. I grab her cloak, pull her back to her feet, and then lift her a few inches off the ground. "Do you have a death wish?" I demand, giving her a good shake. "Do you know nothing of Saiya-jins? We are beings without soft emotions. We hate and pursue nothing but our own pleasure. We care for no one but ourselves. My mother was just a walking womb that carried me for the first few months after my conception, nothing more."

"You are lying." I barely hear her impugn my sincerity. "You believe you should feel shame for caring about your mother, but you are wrong. Love makes a person strong; it no doubt was the motivation for your ascending beyond your father's strength."

"Why the fuck do you care anyway?" I challenge as I pull her a little closer. Her scent becomes stronger. No fear in it, just the natural perfume I remember vividly from the evening before.

"Because if I am to help you, I need to know what I am allying myself with; are you just another mindless, emotionless monkey, or is that simply the exterior you wish your people to see?"

Her seemingly small, gloved hands reach out and touch my chest. I had taken my armor off when I arrived, so there is nothing shielding me from her contact besides my battle suit. Her hands feel warm. I find myself lowering her to stand on the ground. She is not much shorter than me, no more than an inch or two. Her hands remain flat against my pectoral muscles.

I know her intent is not sexual, but I begin to feel parts of me responding that should not. "Bulma," this time I remember her name as my hands drop to my sides. Hers lower as well, down my abdomen, stopping as they circle my waist, just above my tail. She is looking at me intently. I cannot see it, but I can feel it.

"What kind of man are you?" I find myself swallowing, confused by her behavior and question. Her voice is low, half pleading yet half erotic-No-I am imagining the latter. It is her scent-so close-it's driving me mad.

"What are you wearing?" I suddenly must know. "Your scent, what is it?" I pull one of her surprisingly slender hands away from my waist, and lift it to my nose. "Tell me!" I command as it overpowers my senses. Pulling at the fabric of the glove, I almost succeed in viewing her skin uninhibited, but she pulls away before I can.

"It must be the soap I wash with," she chokes while recoiling from me. This angers me. I reach for her again, but she steps back. "Answer my question. What kind of man are you?"

"I am a man who gets what I want." It sounds like a threat as I say it, but it is simply the truth. I take another step toward her, this time she does not move. "Is that what you want to hear?"

She lowers her head, and then shakes it. She says nothing in response for some time before admitting, "I suppose I am hoping to hear something that will make me believe you are a better man than Brolli. That will make me believe I am doing the right thing by helping you. I suppose it is foolish though, after all, you are just a Saiya-jin."

"Ouch," I mock verbally as I realize her question was asked in all seriousness. "If you wish to insult me, a direct comparison to your owner is certainly the way to go about it. But while I may 'just be a Saiya-jin,' let me assure you I am nothing like that son of a bitch. I am not lazy, overindulgent, or brain-dead. But make no mistake I am as cruel and violent as a Saiya-jin can be. I punish those who cross me with absolute force and I am not afraid to use whatever backhanded, manipulative tactics I need just see to that I win at all costs. Does that make me a better man? Well, I suppose that depends on your definition of 'better.' But be warned, if you are torn between which one of us you should betray, let me solve your conundrum: never cross me. Brolli may kill you for betraying him, but I will make you suffer. Sometimes living is a much greater punishment."

Her scent has not changed, and I realize she is unaffected by my decree. That irritates me, almost as much as her passive response, "I should go, Brolli will be returning soon."

She turns to leave me once again, but before she can, I test her resolve after my threat, "I will see you in three days, then?" She nods, and I add, "do not bother looking into my past anymore. It will get you nowhere, I assure you."

"If you say so," she whispers. Her response or lack thereof, continues to irritate me even after she is gone. This alien, this servant, seems to think she knows me simply through assumptions and indirect sources, foolish woman.

Once her scent has faded completely I head back to the castle. When I arrive I find Radditz in my throne room; I can tell he has been waiting for me. "Sire," he follows me to my throne. The moment I am seated, he begins to badger me with political matters that I must deal with before the evening has concluded. Mostly I answer with a simple yes or no, only half listening. My mind is elsewhere.

"Radditz, what do you know of the Qreatins?" My question startles him, but then his expression changes to one of earnestness.

"If my history is correct, the planet was taken about twenty-five years ago. The population was cut in half. Some we killed, others were enslaved depending on their abilities."

"What about the peoples themselves, what do you know of them?"

He pauses, considering my question for a moment before answering, "They are fairly plain. I owned one once, to keep my estate in order while I was on missions. But then your father increased my caseload and it became pointless for me to keep her. She sold for a fair price, more than I bought her for. The Qreatins seem to be an emotionless people, which is why many prefer them in their households. They complain little and work hard-well, as hard as their meager bodies can accommodate."

"They are a weak people?" I am already aware of this, but Radditz has piqued my curiosity and I want to learn more.

"Very much so; if not for their technological abilities I doubt they would have survived as long as they did. They are extremely sensitive to the elements, and have no ki to speak of. You may have seen one. Short, bland in coloring, four eyes, small ears, nose and lips. They are typically stout, but I have noticed a few who have lost much weight due to being overworked."

I immediately think of the thin hand I embraced earlier. She must fall into that category. It would certainly help to explain her dislike for Brolli. "Are they a compatible species?" As soon as I ask the question I wonder why. Its answer bears no relevance.

"Ah… well… I don't know…"the elder man scratches his head, clearly unprepared for the no doubt bizarre inquiry. "Qreatin women are sold for labor not sex. They are not exactly an attractive people, and most unappealing in scent." That catches my attention. It cannot be right. The one I met with tonight was not in the least bit repulsive to my receptive senses.

Soap.

Yes, she did suggest that had been the source, but I am not certain I believe her. The aroma was too intense, too unique. "Are you looking to purchase one?"

Radditz makes the only logical conclusion he can from my line of questioning. I answer in the affirmative. I will be, once this Bulma creature has finished my bidding. "I want you to do something for me, Radditz, and I want it done discreetly."

"All right," he nods, and then I explain.

"Get me a staff list from Brolli's estate. I want it to be complete. Every species, every position, every name, history, I want everything you can acquire. I want a complete list of everyone who has contact with him from the floor cleaners to his whores. Get it to me as soon as possible." He vows to complete the task, but I know he wants to ask me why. I could tell him I am merely keeping a close eye on an enemy, but that is not true.

The woman looked into me, so I will have to do the same for her. I will find out all that she refuses to tell me so that when we meet again, I will be the one on the offensive and she bowing to my questions. In fact, I believe I may even look forward to it.

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"Have you thought more about what I said last time?" His breath spreads across my back as he runs his lips over it. I wish he would not. It is a wasted attempt to make me succumb to him. "I dreamed about you while I was away." His fingers entwine in my hair, he tugs my head back and to the side so that I catch his gaze. "You came to me willingly in the dream and I rewarded you with hours of bliss for it. Does that tempt you?"

He knows it does not, yet he asks anyway. I lower my eyes to look away from him. He growls and pulls me closer to him, twisting me around so that I face him. "Do not be foolish enough to think I will not sell you, Aoiro. I have many a friend who has voiced an interest in you, and trust me, these are not men you want to be sold to. If you think I am a cruel master you know nothing."

He releases me and rises from the bed. I hope he wants me to leave. I sit up, feeling his juices wash down my thighs. "Perhaps I have spoiled you by keeping you for myself all these years. Perhaps you need the taste of another man to realize just how good you have it with me."

I look up; he is at the window, looking out intensely. He seems genuine in his threat, but I fail to feel any sense of fear come over me. At best he is bluffing, at worst he is serious and I go back to being bruised and battered in the morning instead of being plagued by his gentle caresses that inflict deeper emotional scars than any physical ones could penetrate.

"Yes, I believe I will lend you out tomorrow evening." His voice turns almost sinister and for a moment I cringe in anticipation of which lucky monkey he is going to saddle me with. Nappa, I suppose, is the most likely candidate. The two have grown close since King Vegeta died. I reported as much to Vegeta the last time we met.

He has begun a routine of attacking me with questions when I arrive to conspire with him. He is continually researching Brolli's staff. He claims it is to better know his enemy, but most of the questions he has been asking are about me, not Brolli.

In a little less than a month, Vegeta determined that Ezria was the woman he was meeting. He accused me of supplying him with an alias when we met, but I managed to convince him I simply preferred not to be recognized by my slave name. He seemed to accept that.

It was rather odd the way the King looked at me while we spoke during our meeting last night. It had unnerved me, made me feel like he could see through my cloak, or perhaps simply that he was trying to. He asked me twice to remove the covering, but I of course declined. It occurred to me that his determination to see me proved an underlying mistrust. Not, of course, that I ever expected him to trust me. After all, I am lying to him.

His earlier threat resonates in my mind. "So just be warned, if you are torn between which one of us you should betray, let me solve your conundrum. Never cross me. Brolli may kill you for betraying him, but I will make you suffer. Sometimes living is a much greater punishment."

I suddenly realize how dangerous a game I am playing. This King is not to be trifled with, nor is Brolli, but I will not stop meeting with Vegeta. There is something exciting about all of this deception that makes me…well, feel again. It may be fear, anxiety, or pride in the defiance I am exhibiting, but I cannot give it up now. I am in too deep, in more ways than one…

"Tell me about Brolli's harem."

The question comes out of what we ningens used to call left field. I fear he might have discovered my identity. "What is it you want to know?"

"Do any of them carry any diseases or afflictions I should know about?" Should know? What the hell does that mean?

"I… Well, um, I can assure you that a private medical team examines them all regularly. They are given shots to prevent pregnancies and infections from any contagious viruses. But you must have learned all that in the report you received. Why ask me?"

He grinds his teeth and then his arms cross over his chest as he admits, "Brolli invited me to his estate the day before we next meet. As a false sign of his support for my ascension he is offering me and my closest ally access to his harem."

I think I may suffocate as he says it. Oh kami, he is going to be on the premises? What if he sees me? What if he sees Ezria? What if he says something to her? "Well, can you not just refuse to come?"

He shakes his head, "No, that's just what Brolli would want."

"Why?"

"Let's just say he knows how I stand on certain political matters and my refusing to partake in his offer would provide further grounds for my opposition to attack me." I can hear the emotion in his voice and I realize this is another serious issue for him, but I decide not to pursue it. I am too concerned with this new development.

"All right, then, so what do you want me to do? Try and stay out of sight?"

He shrugs and I realize that was not his reasoning for addressing the topic. "I doubt our paths would cross." He pauses and then finally arrives at his true purpose, "Could you recommend one?"

I almost fall to the ground. He has to be kidding. "Recommend one of Brolli's women for you to sleep with?" All at once I experience this bizarre feeling akin to jealousy engulf me. It makes absolutely no sense, but the thought of him with one of Brolli's other women seems just wrong to me. "I could not tell you, I have never slept with any of them."

He looks at me strangely and I realize my tone is more bitter than it should be. His lips pull into a smirk. Shit. "My, my, you would not be jealous of Brolli's whores, now would you?"

The term sends a chill down my spine before I can regroup. "Don't be ridiculous, why would I be jealous?" I genuinely want to know why he would reach that conclusion. It does not make much sense actually.

"Well, your people are not exactly known for your beauty. It is probably intimidating to be around Brolli's enticing collection." Such a male response; I feel my eyes rolling, a sensation I have not allowed myself in quite a long time.

"Yes, well I suppose you would be amply familiar with the sentiment, being such an ugly specimen of the Saiya-jin species yourself." His smirk fades, and for the first time in five years I feel a slight smile pull on my lips. I suddenly feel like a schoolgirl flirting with an upper classman boy. For a moment I forget where I am and who I am with.

"You take that back, woman." He crowds over me, he arms locking on either side of my legs.

"You take back what you said about me!" I demand rebelliously, wiggling my finger at him as I stay in the moment.

"I am warning you." His tone is serious, and yet not, all at the same time. I feel his thigh brush against mine and a heat pulsates through my body.

"Vegeta," I whisper his name as I block him by placing my hand on his chest. "You should not be so close to me," I caution as he refuses to pull back.

"Take this off," he uses his free hand to tug at my cloak. "I am sick of speaking to a tarp." His other hand circles mine as it is resting on his chest. I become nervous.

"I should not… It would not be wise-"

"I do not care what you look like. You do not have to be ashamed before me." For one foolish moment, I believe him. The temptation is so strong to show him who I truly am that I almost do. But I stop before making the mistake. I cannot let this man fool me to the point of endangering myself. Most of this is all an act to gain my loyalty. It may be a well planned act, tempting to fall for, but at the end of the day I have to remember who I am dealing with: a red-blooded Saiya-jin. I simply cannot risk it.

"That's a noble sentiment but-"

"Come on," he waves a dismissive hand at my refusal. "We ugly people need to stick together." This time I do laugh and I realize I am not the only one experiencing a first here. I hear his deep laughter begin to echo with mine and I suddenly realize why I felt jealous at the thought of him with another woman. In some twisted way the two of us have become friends. Perhaps not by any traditional sense of the word, but that has to be what this is, it reminds me too much of what it was like on Chikyuu for me to be wrong.

And here this man probably has no idea what is developing here. Saiya-jins do not seem at all the type to become friends. But then again, this Siaya-jin has continued to disprove all of the stereotypes I have built over the years. "You are not ugly," I tell him finally, after the brief laughter calms. Rising to my feet, I clarify, "But I am, in more ways than one, so I think it best we keep this 'tarp' between us."

I truly believed as he nodded his agreement that he would no longer pursue the matter any further, and he did not. That small respect for my wishes went a surprisingly long way to make me feel an uncommon sense of peace, a peace I look forward to retaining two nights from now.

"Did you hear what I said?!" The belligerent voice startles me from my musing and I look up to see Brolli standing over me, my lack of attention having clearly angered him. "Yes, well, we will see just how long your attention span lasts when you are being managed by the King's stern hand."

It takes all of my strength not to cry out in horror at the specificity of the threat. "Oh good, you are paying attention." He is attentive to my reaction. Lowering himself onto the bed next to me, he explains, "Tomorrow evening I am having a few guests over. If you have not yet heard, Vegeta's weasel son recently overthrew his father and I happen to be one of his targets for revenge. We never did get along, so in an effort to mend some bridges," I want to slap him for his ridiculous lie, "I am offering my acquisitions for his pleasure. You see, I was going to eliminate you from his pick, but now that I think about it, I believe I will offer you to him explicitly. How would you like that, Aoiro?" He runs his fingers through my hair again. I still look away from him. The bastard! He will ruin everything!

"Your choice," he pulls me out of his bed, throwing me to the floor. "You have less than twenty four hours, Aorio. You either come to me willingly tomorrow night or I give you to the midget monarch."

Before I realize what has happened I am in my own room, crouched on the floor in front of my door. Dropping my head into my hands I think for a moment I might throw up.

Finally, for the first time in five years I experience some sense of peace, of familiarity, of companionship and Brolli wants to threaten it! Of course, I can do nothing without that man interfering in my life!

But I cannot let Vegeta see me. He would know. The Saiya-jin sense of smell is too accurate; he would recognize me. And then he would realize I can speak-that I lied to him. Fuck! Pushing myself to my feet I realize I have no choice. I can suffer one night of faking it with Brolli if that means I won't have to give up Vegeta.

I am not naïve; I know it will all end anyway in the not too far distant future. Once Vegeta has finished whatever vendetta he has with Brolli, he will not need me anymore, and our time together will end. But that will be on our terms, without Brolli's interference.

I stumble into my bathroom and draw some water for a bath. As I sink into the tub I close my eyes as my mind wanders to anywhere but this prison I have called home for the last five years of my life.

Life?

Is that what I am still calling it? The image of Vegeta suddenly enters my mind and I feel my heart begin to pound. I wish I could see him tonight, talk to him, get my mind off of the catastrophe I know tomorrow will be. But I cannot. So I settle for the image of him lying next to me, the two of us relaxing in the warm water as we discuss my favorite topic: Brolli's demise.

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