Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What Exactly Is Involved In A Saiyan Mating Ritual? ❯ The Festival ( Chapter 4 )

Oh my god! I can't believe how much fun writing this chapter was!

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ that is the privilege of Akira Toriyama so please don't sue.

Chapter four

Time seemed to stand still as Bulma watched the crowds staring straight back at her. The deep red evening sky suddenly felt oppressive in its humidity. This was a nightmare! What was she supposed to say? Anyone who had, had the misfortune to be stared down by a Saiyan knew the disconcerting feeling. Just like a deer watching fast approaching headlights, she was immovable from fear. Who were these people and what the hell had Vegeta said to them? He hadn't given her the slightest clue as to what was going to happen, and now he expected her to speak about something she didn't understand in front of a mass of bloodthirsty Saiyans!

Words failed her as thousands of penetrating stares invaded her comfort. Under they're close scrutiny her confidence slowly ebbed away, she wasn't even able to exhale the deep breath she unconsciously held in. A few minutes ago the egotistical Saiyan standing to her left had taken her to an unbelievable climax. He had made her whole body ache and now here she was expected to speak about… hell… Kami probably didn't even know what? She looked to Vegeta expecting some sort of help, but no sooner had she caught a glimpse of him, than she realized that he was actually enjoying her present discomfort "They're waiting!" he chimed.

"Don't you dare enjoy this Vegeta," she hissed between gritted teeth, "Tell me what you told them. I'm only going to make a fool out of the both of us if you don't!"

His low throaty chuckle returned, "They know why they are here! All I did was introduce you."

"Stop playing games! What do they want from me?"

"I told you already, they're expecting you to speak!"

"Dammit Vegeta I know you're enjoying this, but cut me a little slack huh!"

"Fine! All they want is for you to prove that you have some sort of guts! Everyone in this room knows that you are an alien, and they are confused as to why I am taking you as a mate!"

"So what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Show them that you have power, show them that you are worthy of being their queen."

"Nani? How on Chikyu am I supposed to do that?"

"Don't look at me. I didn't make the rules! Bitch at them. Tell them that they should all go to hell. Strip naked for all I care, just do something."

Oh HFIL now what? There is absolutely no way I am going to be able to convince them that I have power. I mean I am in The Link and I do have a certain amount of power, but it would kind of feel like cheating if I used it, because it's not really mine…Ok so I'll have to find another way! Gees don't they know it took me a whole year to get Vegeta to admit to it…I mean really it's not like I can…hang on a Kami damned second… That's it! Vegeta! Wow Bulma Briefs you really are a genius!

Squaring her shoulders and setting her teeth, the little Chikyu woman walked forward with confidence renewed. A few bangs of aquamarine hair whipped across her face as she defiantly turned her attention to the crowd. Managing to sneak an exultant grin in Vegeta's direction Bulma prepared to speak. She took a deep intake of breath ready to begin, but something stopped her. "Vegeta!" she hissed over her shoulder, "Will they understand a word I'm saying?"

"Probably not," he smirked, feelings of triumph very evidently etched into his features. "I will translate for you!"

Being careful not to let her amusement show, she faced the audience and began her speech. "My name is Bulma Briefs." She announced, and as promised Vegeta translated. "I am not Saiyan! I do not posses a significant ki and I am not a warrior. I have always lived among fighters but I have no desire to be like them. Science has always been my strong point and the only challenges that I have ever met are those of a genius working in a corporeal mind!"

Vegeta turned to look at her after he translated, his look seemed calculated, and it appeared that he was trying to work out in what direction her speech was going. "What are you trying to do?" he asked with intrigue hanging on every word.

"Just shut up and let me speak! I want to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible, ok?"

He shrugged his shoulders and "Humphed" his agreement, allowing her, in his very own unique language, to do as she pleased.

Once again she addressed the crowd, "You may be wondering why I am telling you this, and be assured" she glanced over her shoulder, "You're not the only ones. What you have to understand is that I am unable to defend myself in battle, I have no knowledge of your culture, but I am still the strongest women in this stadium, probably the universe as well!" Here she paused and could almost hear the confusion as Vegeta's voice echoed and drifted to the very corners of the stadium.

Bulma had to suppress the urge to giggle as she watched a whole arena of eyebrows hike up in disbelief. An audience of Saiyans might not be the hardest crowd to baffle, but it certainly pushed her to say more. "That's right!" she continued, "Not one of you is powerful enough to beat me! I may not be able to defend myself against you, but whilst I live and breathe I trust in someone else to keep me safe. You know it really doesn't matter if Vegeta and I are mates or not, I have complete confidence in him! He doesn't even need to show it, I know when I look into his eyes that there isn't a being alive that would cross me, without crossing him as well. So you see I do have power, and if anyone in this stadium tries to tell me otherwise, then they will see that power first hand, right Vegeta?" She winked at him in triumph as he stopped mid translation and stared at her in absolute shock.

If she hadn't been so on edge, then she probably would have found the site of him blinking with his mouth hanging wide open in disbelief, cute. As it was, her mind was running more for revenge than anything else at that precise moment. "They're waiting!" she mimicked and let her features turn up into a stolen smirk (maybe it would make him realize just how annoying it really was.)

Vegeta's shock was very evident, but was quickly replaced by an egotistical chuckle at the thought of her belief in his abilities. Closing his mouth he turned back to finish up his translation to their guests. It took a few minutes for what he had said to sink in, and Bulma could see the look of anger building in Vegeta's ice-cold stare. He seemed to be taking their silence as defiance, and was preparing to let them how the Prince of all Saiyans dealt with insubordination.

Under the deathly glare of their prince a select few started to cheer. Others followed their example and slowly the whole arena broke out into riotous cheers. The ovation was as deafening as the silence before it and Bulma found herself caught between hysterics and happiness, as the moment washed around her. She spun around on the spot, taking in every delicious feeling and flung her head back revelling in the festivity. It was so un-Vegeta-like to be standing in the middle of a crowd of happy people, but she was glad he was. The party atmosphere was fantastic even though completely unexpected.

The last remnants of daylight were lost over the edge of the cavernous stadium, and as the cheering continued, large Olympic style torches were set aflame across the very top of the stone structure. The fire created an almost pagan aspect, which licked and flashed its way around the expanse, creating the eeriest of shadows. If it hadn't have been for the sheer number of people around her, the scene would have felt threatening, but as Bulma gazed down on a large troop of entertainers that entered in full carnival outfits, the atmosphere seemed nothing short of electric.

The soon-to-be mates were seated on gold and silver thrones as the festivities carried on around them. Every imaginable kind of entertainment had been introduced for their enjoyment, and food was handed around in abundance. Hours passed and despite her earlier doubts Bulma was easily having one of the best nights of her life.

Not long after the arrival of the circus acts she had seen the members of a wealthy family leave their comfortable box seats to join in with the celebrations. Sitting on her perch she had felt almost sorrowful as she watched others follow their example and start to dance around in the colorful splendour. All the revellers partied as though they didn't have a care in the world, and she felt an overwhelming urge to have a share in it. She envied them their fun and wondered if it would be acceptable for her to join them.

Turning to look at Vegeta she hoped to see some sort of kindred desire, but he was just the same as always. The scene seemed to offer little pleasure for him, and a far as participating in it went, well, she should have known better than to expect it. Servants shifted and bustled around them, but all Bulma wanted was to get down on to the weather beaten stone of the amphitheatre floor. "What's the matter with you woman?" Vegeta's voice was low and harsh as always "Your fidgeting is getting on my nerves."

She looked at his stone features and realized that he wasn't asking out of boredom, her actions were actually confusing him, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to bug you." She smiled "It would just be nice to be able to join in. That's all."

"Why?"

"Because it looks like fun."

"Is my company boring you?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, but you implied it."

"I just feel awkward and detached up here Vegeta. Watching is fun, but participating would be even better. Come on… What do you say?"

"I say that you've definitely lost your mind, but if you want to join in, then by all means…" He didn't get to finish. In a flash she had leapt out of her seat and headed down the steps to join in the throng of bodies at their base. He wasn't sure how to take her actions. She had always confused and intrigued him in turn, and now was no exception. He was sorry that she left his side so willingly and tried desperately to control his disappointment as he watched her stand next to the crowd looking for a way into its swarm.

An opening presented itself and Vegeta was mildly surprised when, instead of disappearing into the obscure depths, she backed dejectedly away. Her shoulders relaxed under the weight of a sigh as she turned on her heal and walked back up the steps to where he sat. As she stood before him the noise of the crowd was muted to his ears, time seemed to slow to a mere trickle as her azure eyes caught his and a smile danced playfully on her lips.

"Come with me?" she pleaded, the crystalline depths of blue, disarming every good reason he could think of to refuse. She knelt before him and graciously picked up a white-gloved hand from its position, resting on the arm of the throne, and pressed it to her face.

Any defiance that could have possibly escaped her eyes, were instantly eradicated by the simple gesture. Kami must be laughing his green ass off at the power that this woman possesses over me, he grumbled to himself as he stroked her cheek with his thumb and stood up. "You are going to owe me for this Bulma." He growled into her ear.

"Is that a promise?"

"You better believe it!" he smirked letting a hand run up her armor for a second time that day.

A squeak left Bulma's lips and she playfully slapped the back of his hand. "Where's that Saiyan self-control?" she asked grinning Cheshire cat style. Nothing turned her on as much as him wanting her did. She felt so special when he touched her, almost as if every millimetre of her flesh were a treasured possession.

"In the same place as your pitiful human wit. Now are we going to go join in the…" his lip curled "…fun, or will Kami be my favourite Namek and save me from this torture?"

Bulma reaffirmed her hold on his hand and coaxed him down the steps, "Looks like Kami's going to get his ass kicked for this one." She giggled.

Her mirth was met with a grunt of distain as they reached the bottom of the steps. They pushed their way through the crowd until they came across a depression in its stature. A large group of children sat cross-legged in front of a mysterious Saiyan. He wore a dark purple cloak, with folds of cloth so numerous, that it completely engulfed him. A large hood fell over his head, throwing shadows over his face, and making it impossible to see any features.

With shoulders hunched and voice craggy, the seemingly old man was telling the little Saiyalings of the past glories of their endearing race. He spoke of heroic Sampsonite warriors, defending Vegeta-sei, from its would-be oppressors, with tales of such brutality and bloodshed that she was amazed that the whole lot of them hadn't burst out in tears or been violently sick. Even after everything she had seen in battle, she had to turn away as he spoke in horrific detail of unmerciful torture, rape and ritualistic killings.

One of the themes had run on decapitation and almost unconsciously she had scrunched her eyes up and hidden her face in Vegeta's chest. Her reaction startled him, as the storyteller carried on with the intrigue, by reciting the pain of the hero's death. A tear slid out from the corner of her eye and rolled languidly down her cheek. "How can he describe such things in front of children?" she asked.

"Because they have to learn. Our race has the inbred desire to fight. They ignore the horror, as your species would put it, and store the information to use in later life. It is no different to them than listening to a nursery rhyme. It is a part of us."

"How awful!"

"It is a part of our make up. This is what I am and I enjoy it. Just because I have a weakness where you are concerned, doesn't mean that I have changed. I have watched, and laughed as people have experienced similar demises to those that this old man describes, at my own hands. As I told you the other day, you should never forget who I am."

"Vegeta?"

"I need you to accept me for me. Not some creature of your imagination. You are all too apt to forget what I am capable of and I don't like it. I don't want to hurt you, but how am I going to prevent it if you don't know my true nature. I vow to never lay a hand on you, but our cultures are so alien to each other that discrepancies will always occur. I need you to know what you're getting yourself into."

"Ha, so your finally going to tell me what happens next?"

"That's not what I meant Onna!"

"I know," she replied earnestly, "And believe me, I know better than most what you are capable of, or have you forgotten that you killed my ex-boyfriend."

A hint of amusement flashed across his eyes, as he pulled up his hands over his chest and stiffened into his accustomed facade, "The fool died at the hands of a pitiful Saiberman! He deserved his fate."

"Hey you can stop it right there, Yamcha and I may not have worked out, but he is still my friend!"

"Humph, well shall we move on?" he asked trying to turn the conversation, "My mother insisted on telling me this story over and over, I have no desire to hear it again."

"Whoa, your mother?"

"Yes, my mother!" he snapped. "Why does it surprise you?"

"I don't know, you never mentioned her before. I guess that I thought she had died before you were old enough to remember her."

"Well had I been an ordinary Saiyan, then yes she probably would have! I was two and a half when she died, but I remember her perfectly. All elites have an augmented memory, not quite photographic, but definitely superior than most. Now can we talk about something else! Her memories are new to me, and I do not wish to think on the subject further!"

"New? But if you have a near photographic memory then…"

"I said I don't want to discuss it, now shall we go to see the dancers?"

Bulma caught a glimpse of something in his face that she had seen when he held her that morning. It was so difficult to read his expressions. The slightest muscle spasm or slant of the head could mean a complete mood change. Was it confusion? Sorrow? Nope it was a mystery to her. "Yeah that sounds like a great idea." She said answering his previous question, and left trying to work out the intricacies for a later date, after all, she would have the rest of her life to figure it out.

Together they meandered through the crowd. They passed entertainers of all descriptions. Poets, acrobats, and thespians all stood side by side. It was strange for her to see the Saiyans as a people of rich cultural diversity, when somehow she had always imagined them to be more lineal. She was happy to be wrong, though, and watched every act with an infantile interest. The contortionists were amazing! The use of a tail really managed to change the hackneyed old routine and you really had to see the ki-swallower perform to believe it was possible.

Moving passed the multitude of sideshows the pair suddenly found themselves within a group of dancers. Bulma stood in awe as the mass of bodies around her spun in time to the music. The hem of silk dresses lashed at her ankles as the couples twisted and turned in pairs in a very similar style to ballroom dancing. The music was simple, but pleasing. The single tampered drum and flute, being played by a duet of musicians, was all that was needed to create the scene. The simple melodies flooded around the stadium being amplified by its very design, and made her wish that she had continued with her dancing lessons when she was younger.

Bulma looked over at Vegeta to see how he was coping with the closeness. He hated to be in crowds. His occasional trips to the mall to buy new clothes had been proof of that, and so when she turned and saw him, not quite smile, but contort his scowl into something as regally close, she couldn't help but let out a sigh of satisfaction. "Do you dance?" he stated on seeing her inspection of him.

"Is that a question or an offer?" she asked expecting him to abuse her stupidity, but not resisting the opportunity as it presented itself.

"Both." He said to her utter bewilderment.

"Ok now I know you're winding me up." She laughed dismissively.

"I always mean what I say," he said brushing through the couples towards her and slipping an arm around her waist to pull her closer to his hips. Unresisting Bulma moved under his arms persuasiveness, and there was a chink as their armor collided. The earnestness in his onyx eyes never failed to make her weak at the knees, as its very presence made her understand that he was a hundred percent serious.

"Holy shit! I can't believe you know how to dance!" she said practically leaping with exited anticipation. "I asked Yamcha once if he wanted to be my partner for dance class, and he threw a fit!"

"It was part of my education, for some reason being a prince seemed to require that I learnt, so I did." His teeth were clenched as he spoke. It was very evident that he was doing this for her enjoyment, but to be honest he didn't mind all that much, being so close definitely had its advantages.

The last notes of the previous song filtered into insignificance and the couples stopped dancing. They bowed to each other and clapped the musicians, before finding new partners. After a short bustle the music started up again and Bulma found herself whisked into their midst. The instruments struck up a chord and her prince bowed before her, ready to take her hand in the next dance.

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Well there ya go, chapter four in all its glory! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.