Chapter 52

Zarbon watched Vegeta’s beautiful wife hiss a few words into the Prince’s ear before she slid gracefully from the room, leaving the guests none the wiser. Despite all his misgivings the banquet had gone well. Bulma had conducted herself admirably, and Zarbon had to admit grudgingly that she was very savvy. He had to acknowledge that she was well brought-up after all, he supposed. She was also going to be very useful, especially if Vegeta began to alienate some of his supporters. Some of the heads of state that had met her already were wasting no time in admiring her openly, ignoring the forbidding looks of her husband and her newly appointed bodyguard, Radditz. If Vegeta’s underlings loved Bulma then much could be done to heal wounds when Vegeta inevitably offended them. Vegeta’s fist might have been what brought them all together, but it was Bulma’s charm that would keep them together.

He nodded to the dignitary that was speaking to him, not listening to what the thing was saying. His attention was riveted on the imposing form of the Saiyan Commander. Nappa had stood to one side all evening, his eyes fixed on Bulma and his skin pallid. The Commander wasn’t the type to quail easily at things, and therefore Zarbon was dually curious as to what could have such an effect on him. The dignitary excused itself and he realized Atlia was herding the visitors out of the room. Smart move, that. Once Bulma’s buffering influence was gone the Arlian made certain that nothing could go wrong by being rid of everyone. As much as he hated bugs, Zarbon had to admit that Atlia was exceedingly useful. “What did she say to you?” Zarbon asked Vegeta coolly.

“None of your business,” Vegeta snapped, his countenance dark.

Zarbon raised an eyebrow and looked at Radditz. “She said it would be a cold day in hell before she would let a bastard like the Prince into her bed chambers ever again. She stated that the Prince would be better served by keeping to his own, private chambers and leave her out of the whole thing. She also implied that His Majesty do himself some bodily harm on his way out the door, Sir,” Radditz reported dutifully, staring straight ahead.

Zarbon smiled as Vegeta’s face twisted with anger. “Thank you, Radditz,” he said gently. “I told you that you wouldn’t be able to keep her as a love toy,” he admonished.

Vegeta snorted. “I’ll do what I like with her,” he said haughtily.

“And as a result you won’t get any loving,” Zarbon replied matter-of-factly. “She’s the one who controls how much sex you get, not you.” Vegeta shot him a menacing look. “And you couldn’t dream of forcing her. If you anger or hurt her all your plans go down in flames, especially after she’s spent all evening ingratiating herself with the dignitaries.”

“Damn you straight to hell,” was all Vegeta would reply before storming out of the room with a violent snapping swirl of his red cape. Radditz inhaled sharply and trotted after his Prince.

Zarbon shook his head, his cool eyes sliding over to look upon Nappa. “And you, Commander? Do you have anything you wish to say?” he asked calmly.

Nappa turned his bald head towards Zarbon, his beady eyes blank for a moment. “Er, no. Leave me alone,” he snarled, showing his teeth beneath his moustache.

Zarbon decided he was feeling frisky. He walked right up to Nappa and placed his nose only inches from Nappa’s face. “Make me,” he said quietly, his voice laced with subtle poison.

“I’d love to, you green freak,” Nappa growled, his meaty fists clenching by his sides.

“Then either beat me to a pulp or come up with some more imaginative insults,” Zarbon said calmly, a smile winding across his perfect features.

Nappa barked an attack cry and brought his hand up quickly to throttle Zarbon, who blocked it easily and twisted the larger man’s elbow. Nappa yelped and snatched his arm back, staring hatefully at Zarbon. “You bastard,” the large Saiyan spat.

Zarbon shrugged, his golden eyes flickering with amusement. “Think what you like. I want to speak with you frankly, just now.”

“I don’t want to talk to a bastard like you.”

“Are you sure? I would really hate to see your other arm injured as well...”

“You’ll never be able to bully me into talking to you,” Nappa growled.

Zarbon sighed and examined his nails. “I suppose you’re right. So let’s try this: tell me what I want to know and I won’t tell Vegeta that you attacked me, or that you hate his wife even more than he does.”

“You wouldn’t!” Nappa hissed, still holding his arm.

Zarbon let the cold smile widen. “Of course I would, Nappa. I’m a trained soldier with no mercy.”

Nappa’s cheeks flared red with anger, but his eyes gave in. “He bonded with the little bitch,” he mumbled.

Zarbon’s eyebrows went up. “What?!”

“You heard me. Vegeta bonded with her.”

“I thought Saiyans stopped bonding centuries ago!” Zarbon exclaimed.

Nappa shook his head, closing his eyes. “Most did. Still happens, sometimes.”

“What does it mean, exactly?”

“They have special access to the other’s mind and possibly soul. They become a part of one another. It is rare, and almost always unasked for. If she had denied him he probably would have wasted away, his own body denying him life. So there. He’s hers forever. Happy?” Nappa spat.

Zarbon blinked, unable to control his shock. “But this has so many implications!” he protested.

“Are you satisfied? Do you get it now?” Nappa said.

Zarbon swallowed hard. Bulma’s existence suddenly seemed to him like a gaping wound in Vegeta’s psyche. If anything, anything at all happened to her. . . “Oh god, what if Freeza. . .” he gasped.

Nappa’s features tightened. He had obviously not thought of it either. “Prince Vegeta,” he murmured.

“No wonder he wanted her dead so quickly. He must have known what could happen when he started seeing her eyes in his head and wanted to stop it before it got worse,” Zarbon breathed.

“Too late,” Nappa said lifelessly. “If she’s hurt he’ll feel it. If she dies he’ll feel that too, and a part of him will die with her.”

“But will the same thing happen to her?” Zarbon asked, remembering finally to keep his voice low.

Nappa shrugged. “Who cares?” he grunted.

“I do,” Zarbon said warningly.

Nappa narrowed his eyes. “Then talk to Radditz. He’s sick with worry,” he grumbled. “All of you are worthless.”

Zarbon’s head snapped over to him at that comment as he remembered who he was and what he would tolerate. “Oh be quiet, Nappa,” he said politely. “Remember, you may be the Commander, but I outrank you.”

Nappa’s jaw was still working soundlessly when he left the room.

---

Radditz was where he expected him to be, leaning against the wall opposite Bulma’s door. “Oh, you can’t be taking your duty so seriously yet,” Zarbon said through the darkness.

“She could be attacked,” Radditz murmured, not opening his eyes or raising his chin from his chest.

Zarbon sighed and leaned on the wall next to the Saiyan. “Vegeta didn’t officially assign you,” he reminded the other man.

Radditz’s eyes opened to slits and slid over to glance at Zarbon. “No, he didn’t, but he will,” he replied.

“Surely Vegeta--” Zarbon began.

Radditz turned to face him. “Yes, he is that cruel. He won’t hesitate to do so.”

Zarbon pressed his lips into a line. “Fine. I’ll take your word on it. There isn’t much we can do right now, anyway. I guess I’m curious to know how you’ll react when he comes to her chambers at night and you can hear them through the door.”

“I’ll ignore them. I’ve become a master at ignoring pain. Any true warrior has at least that much focus.”

Zarbon regarded the larger man silently for a few minutes, watching the flickering of the lamp light over Radditz’s sharp features. “You’re right, of course,” he breathed.

“Why do you even care?” Radditz snapped suddenly. “You can’t understand this.”

Zarbon raised an eyebrow. “Care? I suppose I do, to an extent. I know that discontent soldiers are not productive soldiers. I need to care, also, if I’m going to get the information I want out of you. As for understanding, let’s just say that you’re not the only one who has lost a love.”

Radditz’s nostrils flared for a second, betraying his curiosity. “And what do you want out of me?” he asked quietly.

Zarbon glanced at the closed wooden door. “He’s not in there, is he?”

“No.”

“Then I want to know how exactly this bonding thing works,” Zarbon said, voice nearly a whisper.

Radditz’s features jerked in shock. “So you know,” he said numbly.

Zarbon nodded. “I wish you would have told me at the wedding. That’s when you knew, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Of course not. No one ever wants to believe the person they love is unattainable forever. But that’s not what I want to talk about. I need to know what effects this will have on Vegeta.”

Radditz presented his profile, dark eyes unblinking as he stared at the doorway across the hall. “They’ll mesh,” he answered softly. “They’ll be subconsciously influenced by the other’s emotions and personalities. That doesn’t mean that they’ll ever act the same, but the edges of their behavior will be tempered by the other’s feelings.”

“So Vegeta might soften and Bulma harden?”

“Maybe. It’s hard to say. That’s probably why Vegeta’s trying so hard to keep himself separate from her. He’s lucky she’s not a Saiyan and doesn’t feel it the same way he does.”

“Oh? What does that mean?” Zarbon asked innocently, silently grateful that Radditz had offered him the precise information he had come to ask for.

“Bulma doesn’t feel his presence. Vegeta could close his eyes and point to her unerringly, even if they were on different planets. She dies, he dwindles. He dies, she feels grief more intense, but it won’t threaten her life any more than if he had been a truly-loved human mate. She doesn’t have the psychic capabilities to really feel him like that.”

“But now she’s a danger for him?”

“Well, my parents were bonded, you know. Sometimes they were able to block one another. It takes a lot of practice and power, though. It’s possible, especially since she’s not telepathic in the least, that he can block her out completely. It would take a lot of time and effort, though, and I doubt he could find her if she was unconscious. It only goes one way between those two.”

Zarbon crossed his arms over his chest, mulling it over as he joined Radditz in staring at the wooden doors. After a few long, quiet moments he extended his finely manicured hand to Radditz. The Saiyan looked at it warily, his dark eyes flickering from the blue-nailed fingers to the golden eyes. “Thank you,” Zarbon said. “Truce?”

Radditz stared at him silently for quite some time. Finally his large, rough hand clasped Zarbon’s own. “Truce,” he agreed, his sharp face solemn.

Zarbon released Radditz’s hand and executed an elegant little bow. “Good night, Captain of the Imperial Guard. You know, the Captain of the Guard is equal in rank to the Commander of the Armed Forces,” he said silkily, a smile touching the corner of his mouth as he watched Radditz’s lips part in surprise. With a flourish of cape he strode off down the corridor to the Emperor’s chambers. He hoped Radditz appreciated his little gift. Making him equal in rank to the overbearing Nappa was in his power and Radditz deserved it. Now all that remained was making sure Vegeta agreed and the proper documentation was in place before they received Anpane and the delegations from the other planets.

---

She had to admit she was nervous, perhaps even more than she was angry. Vegeta stood beside her, one of the few times she had seen him since he left her chambers a few days before. He looked elegant and handsome, his nose slightly in the air and his dark eyes burning with pride as they always did. She stuffed the flutter of desire down into the pit of her stomach and buried it there. Immediately she fixed her attention on the door, where the Queen of Kijar would enter in a few moments. Nerves threatened to tweak her facial muscles. The Queen had wanted to marry her husband, and she hoped that nothing untoward would happen.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on it. Anpane stormed through the door and marched up to them, her black eyes glittering coldly. Vegeta’s expression remained stony as he gazed upon Anpane’s flawless lavender skin, but Bulma blinked repeatedly. She had been unprepared for the fine bone structure and glossy tresses of the Kijaran queen, surprised at the woman’s delicate beauty. The completely black eyes were disconcerting, but mostly because no emotion could be read in their depths. Bulma made as if to curtsy and opened her mouth when sparks suddenly flew through her vision. She took a step backwards, clasping her hand to her cheek in shock as she stared back at the Kijaran queen. She had been struck! Her eyes immediately sought out Vegeta’s, but he merely looked back at her with a mocking little smile. He was going to be no help to her whatsoever. A quick glance around the crowd showed that everyone else was just as horrified at the situation as she was. Suddenly Radditz was hulking in front of her, taking a step towards the visiting queen when Vegeta’s place his hand in the middle of the man’s chest, preventing him from moving further. “Let it be,” she heard him whisper. Radditz growled and stepped back behind her. She looked around again, searching for help and finding none. Radditz would not meet her eyes and Vegeta merely smiled at her. Nappa scowled at her with undisguised disgust, while Atlia had politely turned his head. Sudden rage boiled up in her and she felt her jaw clamp shut, her hands falling to fists at her sides. Then she found Zarbon. He had materialized at Vegeta’s shoulder and was regarding her levelly. His cold golden eyes bore into her head, dispassionate but at the same time giving her an odd sense of confidence. She drew her eyebrows up questioningly and saw him nod. With a smile she turned to the visiting queen, drew her fist back, and let the Kijaran have it right in the eye.

Anpane shrieked and fell over, clutching at her eye socket, her thin body shuddering. A guard rushed over to help her up, and Bulma would never forget the look of pure hatred scrawled across the alien’s features. “You dare!” Anpane hissed.

“You hit me first,” Bulma pointed out calmly, demurely clasping her hands in front of her.

“You shall pay!” Anpane growled, curling her lavender fingers and making a triangle with her index fingers and thumbs. Before Bulma could react the electricity arced between them and struck her in the chest. She was aware of the breath leaving her body forcibly and her heart stopped for one crystal-clear second, the disbelieving faces frozen around her as she toppled. Suddenly hands were beneath her and she gasped for air, her chest heaving. Radditz’s face looked down at her, his brows drawn and eyes worried.

“That bitch,” Bulma wheezed, struggling out of Radditz’s arms to stand upright. She glanced over at Vegeta and saw his face had set into a stern expression, with some sort of unreadable emotion dancing in his eyes. What in the hell was his problem? Why wasn’t he intervening on her behalf?

Anpane stood before her, her eye already swelling, and smirked. “You’re just a pitiful creature, after all,” the Kijaran said.

Bulma laughed, surprising herself with how feral it sounded. “Your pity is misplaced,” she growled, took off her shoe, and threw it at the queen, hitting her right between the eyes with the heel. Anpane fell immediately backwards, her eyes empty. The queen was unconscious.

Somewhere to her side she heard an angry shout and she looked over to see several armed Kijaran guards rushing at her, forbidden weapons flashing into existence. She held up her arms to shield herself, closing her eyes against the inevitable pain, when there was a cracking of air being displaced followed by the smell of burning. Lowering her arms slowly, she looked up to see Zarbon pierce the guards one by one with thin beams of ki. The guards never even had time to reach her before he killed them. “Remember that such actions against the Empress will never be tolerated,” he said in his clear voice, the words ringing throughout the voluminous hall. “Violence against her will be treated as treason and punishable as such by death.”

She threw Zarbon a grateful glance, happy someone had stepped forward on her behalf, and smiled at him weakly.

“Although she seems more than capable of defending herself,” Zarbon added with a wry smile, and the hall erupted in relieved laughter.

“Atlia, see that Anpane is taken to her rooms with her surviving guards,” Vegeta ordered coldly, fixing Bulma with an unreadable stare.

Bulma felt the room spin around her and realized the stress was getting to her. “I will be in my rooms should I be needed,” she said to him curtly, then spun on her heel and walked away.

---

The knock on her door sent her leaping from her bed, quickly grabbing a veil and throwing it over her head. She didn’t want whoever it was to see that she had been crying, nor did she want to show that her skin was blistered and her hair singed. Once she was covered she took a deep breath and perched on a cushion with all the dignity she could muster. “Enter,” she commanded, expecting a stream of attendants to come spilling through the doors.

“Hello,” she heard a deep voice say, and was surprised to see Zarbon walk into the room bearing a tray. “How are you, Bulma?”

She fell silent, watching through the sheer fabric as he set the tray down on a table and shut the doors behind him, latching them. He turned to her and regarded her with those unreadable golden eyes, his flawless features devoid of any expression. His hair was pulled back in its usual braid, but he wasn’t wearing his diadem, nor was he wearing his customary battle armor. Instead he was clad in a loose pair of pants and a sleeveless undershirt. “Hey, those look like...” she said, raising a hand towards his pants.

He smiled, his eyes gentle for a split second. “They are. Bona fide Earthling pajama bottoms. Your mother gave me these clothes before we left. Do you like them?”

She blushed and was glad for the veil once again. The shirt clung to his muscles and bared just the right amount of his perfect, pale blue-green skin. “They look nice,” she said, uneasy. “Where’s Vegeta?”

Zarbon, she realized, was far too disciplined to show it if the question took him off guard. He merely shrugged at her. “Are you hungry? You missed the meal.”

She eyed the food on the tray. She had indeed missed the meal, having collapsed in the hallway only a few moments after leaving the great hall. It was fortunate that Radditz had been following her and caught her before she struck the stones, otherwise she would have been in more pain than she was already. When she awoke later it was Radditz and not her husband that was watching over her with loving eyes. “I suppose,” she sighed, and reached up to pull off the veil. She didn’t care what Zarbon thought. She was tired of being afraid of him. The veil fell from her fingers to land on the floor and she looked up slowly to meet Zarbon’s eyes, unwilling to see any sort of disgust or pity there.

“You don’t look as bad as I thought you would,” he said suddenly, picking the tray up and bringing it over to her. “I figured you’d be swollen like a jeeper frog after all the electricity you took in.”

She scowled at him and picked up an eating utensil. “Gee, thanks,” she growled. “Aren’t you sweet.”

To her surprise he laughed. “So, you’re not afraid of me any more?” he asked, sitting down on the floor next to her.

She shrugged, lifting some food to her mouth. “Why should I be scared of someone who kills people on the spot indiscriminately?” she said nonchalantly.

He shook his head, the heavy green braid tumbling over his shoulder. “We’re all warriors here, Bulma. There’s not always time for mercy.”

“Not like some of you could mete out mercy anyway,” she said acidly, picking up a glass of water.

Zarbon sighed and sat with his legs outstretched. He wiggled his bare toes in his sandals and the gesture was suddenly so...human...that she forgot she had ever been afraid of his strangeness. Her husband had a tail, which was a heck of a lot stranger than having different colored skin or hair. “Think what you like of me,” he replied after a few moments.

Bulma glanced over at him through her hair, letting more seconds pass. “Thank you,” she said softly, feeling the tears rise to her face unbidden. “Thank you for standing up for me when even my own husband abandoned me.”

Zarbon suddenly took her face between his hands, his golden eyes boring into hers. “Is that what you think?” he asked quietly, taking his fingers and tucking her hair behind her ears. “That Vegeta abandoned you to fate?”

Bulma turned her face to the side and squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge that he could see her cry. “What else am I supposed to think? He just stood by and watched while one of his own subjects electrocuted me!”

Zarbon sighed and wiped away some of her tears with his thumb, his hands warm and rougher than she expected. “He had to, Bulma,” he replied. “Can’t you see?”

“How can you even say that?” she choked, trying to turn away again, but his hands wouldn’t let her.

“I’m not defending him, don’t get me wrong. If I saw the woman I loved getting treated like that I probably would have reacted like Radditz, but that’s beside the point--”

“So everyone knows about that?” she interrupted.

Zarbon chuckled. “Of course. He’s not very subtle. He loves you with all of his heart. But we’re not talking about Radditz right now. No matter how he feels it doesn’t change the fact that you’re with Vegeta.”

“Okay, you can continue,” she prompted.

Zarbon smiled faintly and nodded, looking her in the eyes the entire time. “What I’m trying to say is that he couldn’t interfere. He’s lucky that Anpane attacked you openly, with so many witnesses. That makes her easier to control and also helps him seem less evil when he kills her.”

“He can’t kill her!” Bulma interrupted again. “That’s not right!”

“Am I talking right now, or are you?” he asked curtly.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Go on.”

“Bulma, you’re a weakness for him. If someone hurts you they cut his heart out. It is essential that everyone see you can stand up for yourself. He couldn’t interfere today because then his enemies would have known for sure that you were weak and they could get to him through you. He’s proud of how you conducted yourself today. You took control of the situation and triumphed. That’s how he sees it, and since he’s the one shaping our reality, that’s how you should see it too,” he explained, his voice level.

Bulma looked back at him, studying his flawless features to try and discern if he lied. She saw nothing but truth in his face. “Zarbon, do you think he cares for me?”

Zarbon turned his head to the side, considering, then took his hands off of her face and placed his fingers over hers. “I think he must,” he replied. “He could have killed you when we landed on Earth but he didn’t. Of course he needed you and your technology, but I think he realized he needed you, too.”

“But he doesn’t even talk to me. He only comes to me when he wants to...well...”

Zarbon laughed again. “I know. Listen, I’ll tell you a secret. I know how you feel. I was married once myself.”

“No. . .” Bulma breathed, her eyes going wide.

Zarbon scowled. “Oh come on. It’s not that hard to believe.”

“It’s just. . . the. . . way. . . you were on Earth,” she stuttered.

He shook his head again, reclaiming his hands and lacing his fingers on the far side of his knee. “It was a long time ago. A man gets lonely,” he grumbled. “But you keep dragging me away from the point. Vegeta has bonded with you, something that Saiyans almost never do. He’s really opened himself up to damage because of that. You could learn all his secrets, things that nobody else knows, and use them against him. Or someone could take you hostage and bend him to their will that way. He’ll have to explain it better himself. At any rate, it’s a big deal. I just don’t want you to give up hope. He’s distant because he’s protecting himself.”

“But I would never hurt him!” she protested.

“I know that,” he said patiently, “But Vegeta has never had anybody like that in his life before. You have to bide your time, no matter how hard it may be. He’s a warrior and has led a warrior’s life. You must be a proper Empress for him, and you made a huge step towards that today. Soon people will love you for you and claim you as their own Empress rather than simply accepting you because you’re his.” He stood to go, then, dusting off the backs of his pants. “Now go to bed. I’ll send someone to see to your burns shortly.”

She nodded and let him lead her to the bed. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

“I told you. I was married once. I understand the hardship. Besides, I want this empire to succeed, and I don’t think it can unless you’re a part of it,” he replied, plumping the pillows beside her, then walked toward the door.

She waited until his hand was on the knob before she found her voice. “Thank you, Zarbon,” she murmured.

He stopped, leaving the knob unturned for a moment, but did not swivel to face her. “You’re welcome, Bulma,” he replied.

The door was nearly shut when she heard his voice again. “And girl, do something about that hair. Electrified frizz is most definitely out of style this season.”

She began to laugh and missed the sound of the latch clicking as the door closed.

---

51 / Bulma’s Hideout / 53