Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ tHe DeStInY oF ChAlLeNgE ❯ Conquest of the Heart... ( Chapter 23 )

Chapter 24~ Conquest of the Heart…

***Dedication: Videl621, WaterPrincess, MidnightPassion, and Vegeta's Dark Fairy***

A/N: These people have been with The Destiny of Challenge from the first. I appreciate everyone's input and thought it was due to recognize some of those people that haven't given up on me, nor on sharing their much-desired opinions. Thanks!

Growling in frustration, Vegeta cursed the damn woman ten times over, or better yet, the entire race of women in general. Was it specifically him, or were all men condemned by their foolish need for their counterparts? Gripping the fluid anger that raced through his body, he made an almost begrudging attempt to find Bulma's ki. Swearing to himself that this was the last time, he stalked his way through the halls, barely taking notice to the forces still pulling at his body, ever hopeful to claim the Saiyan no Ouji as a part of the universe. By the black expression contorting his face, it appeared plausible that he was meant to be groped by space, the dark expanse befitting to his unpredictable temper.

Blood assaulted his nostrils with each agitated breath, though soothing to his blood rage, he was unsure of whether the strong scent was coming from his own murderous hands, or that of a near by being. Namelessly, Bulma. As he was about to turn a sharp corner, blind to what would greet him, a jagged metal object almost struck him. Perhaps not almost, Vegeta thought bitterly, as blood began to run smoothly down his chest. Thank Gora for his temper, for if not, his ki wouldn't have been raised, though however minutely, it saved him from a larger laceration. Vegeta hardly cared, pain was a comfort to him, after all.

And they said anger didn't resolve things, Vegeta snorted inwardly, his characteristic cynicism returned.

With fluid movements, Vegeta prevented the follow up attack, gripping the thick metal with his right hand, never wincing as it penetrated his palm's flesh, the cool metal tasting of his blood. A feral snarl erupted from his throat threateningly; his obsidian orbs of cruel disdain seeking the perpetrator of his spilt blood. Almost like a cruel joke, his unforgiving eyes were met with frantic sapphire oceans, the dilated eyes of his attacker nearing a cobalt blue. His breath hitched at the sight of her in close vicinity, the bruises marring her slender arms and swollen legs nearly too much to bare. Her face was unscathed save smeared blood and minor scratches, her porcelain orbs frozen in mute horror.

What could he possibly say to her?

* * * * * * *

Immediately Bulma let the unceremonious blade drop from her fingers, watching in stunned agony as the sharpened metal slivered out of his flesh. He remained unmoving, even as the loud clatter of metal clashing with blood stained metal rang through the silence, slicing it just as the blade had done so to Vegeta's palm. Her heart made languorously pulsations, beating to a pained stillness. Bulma couldn't remove her gaze, nor could she respond to his presence in any way, time seemingly frozen in a warped vortex.

"What are you doing here," Bulma said with forced calm, cool, perceptive eyes narrowed at him accusingly.

"What," he quietly mocked, his coal orbs masked to indifference, "no pleasant greeting?"

"Leave."

"Did I catch you in a bad mood," Vegeta teased roughly, condescension lacing his tone.

"Don't fuck with me, Vegeta," Bulma screamed in frustration, tears burning at the back of her eyes, her body trembling slightly, "DAMN YOU, DON'T FUCK WITH ME!"

"And here I'd thought I already accomplished that," he dismissed with a humorless laugh.

"Bastard," she wrenched out, her wits beaten out her, just like her lost blood.

"I'm actually quite legitimate, royalty always is."

"Damn you!---damn you an- and you're filthy whore," she sobbed bitterly, her bottom lip quivering, as she withheld the salty tears that wished to escape.

Did he not see she could endure no more of his torment? Brutal beatings had been dealt upon her, but the calculating ridicule in his eyes was far worse. Much had been torn away from her- the trust she had once held in her people, the friends she had once held, the world she had once called home, and the beauty that had once been she. But he could take so much more from her, couldn't he? Her poise, her dignity, her pride...her very heart. But those didn't matter anymore. She was here to survive, and whether or not he deemed her worthy of it, she would. The love of a man could make her stronger, but the hate of this man could make her invincible.

...if only she had the ability to reciprocate that loathing.

"I suppose filthy is befitting," Vegeta said reproachfully as he let his eyes rove over Bulma's battered form, "but if a whore is what you have become, then my coming to reclaim you is null."

Bulma choked down the vile rising in her throat, gasping at the words that still stung her vulnerable being. Her lungs were reluctant to accept breath, her heart thoroughly convinced that the air was poisoned with his cutting words.

"You never had claim to my being in the first place," Bulma hissed, regaining her composure only by sheer will, instincts to her survival claiming her.

"Oh, but don't I," he broached haughtily, disdainfully staring into her guarded eyes, "Mmm-- kitten? Don't I already have your heart, foolish onna?"

"N-no," she drawled in a mournful whisper.

"How predictable," he scoffed, as he let out a scathing bout of wicked laughter, "Am I the air you breathe?"

"You're the poison I choke on," Bulma countered contemptuously.

"Finally you're speaking intelligibly," Vegeta commended with a cynical sneer.

"Rot in hell," she said dismissively, as she pushed past him, agonizing pain jolting through her legs as she refused to limp in front of him.

"I'm on the waiting list," he informed with a quirk of his eyebrows and a sardonic smirk.

As she attempted to take another step, she felt his gloved hand grip her bruised arm, and with surprising gentility pull her back to face him.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

"For fresh air, Your Highness," Bulma spat viciously.

"The hell you are," he snorted indignantly, roughly pulling her into his arms.

She would've struggled, but her energy reserves were far too scarce to resist his tentative hold. Or at least, that's what she assured herself, convincing her seething mind that her shattered heart was not the culprit to her compliance. Tension rippled through his muscles as he lifted her weak form into his embrace. Bulma could feel his heart hammer against the cage of his ribs, as he pressed her into his defined chest, cradling her within his body's space.

"Put me down, I don't need your help," was Bulma's weak protest.

"Humph," he scoffed, attempting to situate her body into a comfortable position, for both her and himself.

"You've gained weight," he informed snobbishly, acting as if she burdened him.

Bulma rolled her eyes at his blatant attempt to get a rise out of her.

"Perhaps it is you, you're not quite as toned-- you're biceps do look a little flabby."

Okay, so it was a weak lie- so was his!

Gazing up into his harsh eyes, Bulma glared at him, not showing how his cold gaze chilled her, as it penetrated her thoughts, disrupting even the beat of her heart.

* * * * * * *

Within the next moment, Vegeta was strutting down the maze of halls once more, cradling the onna within his arms carefully. He kept his gaze straightforward, evading the searching orbs of cerulean that burned along his skin. He could feel her eyes, feel the glare that was directed straight at him, just as he could sense the softening of them as she studied his face, apparently convinced he wouldn't notice. Despite the caress her eyes bestowed upon him, Vegeta refused to ease the rigid tension that molded his body. He knew he had been cruel, such an act comforting to his pride, but what scared him was that fact that he could have done no less, and no more. Maliciousness was what he dealt, the deceit within his life had shaped him to do just so. Betrayal was his only option.

And because of it, his dark, treacherous heart would be his once more.

But it consoled him by none, the thought scarce within his mind and seldom within his constant analyzing. However one thought continuously haunted his consciousness, perhaps even scraping the boundaries of his sub-conscious, for several voices seemed to echo the very same question; had they really defiled her? Had that hideous creature truly tainted her body, had it assaulted her sexually? He practically recoiled at the thought. If it was the bitter truth, then it was not obtuse to say that it would be easier deserting her, but it did seem to put a damper on things. Nevertheless in finality it would make it quite more acceptable.

Enormous vibrations rocked the ship, the lights beginning to flicker and dissipate from existence. Vegeta glanced nervously about him, though he knew what must be done, he was disinclined to anticipate it. They were loosing altitude quickly, the generators that supplied friction to ignite the engines already failed. There was only one propeller left working, and that was hardly enough to prevent the enormous ship from plummeting into the void of space. Time seemed scant as the moments passed by, clinging to the air like spiders to a web, and though survival was slim, it was required.

Raising his ki to envelop their intermingled bodies, Vegeta awaited the perfect moment, the precise second that would mean the difference between life and death. He knew they were going to collide into something with a gravitational force as strong as a meteorite, though he figured it was something more. Ki's speckled the expanse of the afore-mentioned space structure, and that simple sign of life meant only one thing.

Sepo-sei.

That was the only logical explanation, and considering Vegeta felt it a necessity to be just so, he concluded that the object that they were seconds from collision with was, in fact, a planet. Sepo-sei, to be specific- but at the moment, the knowledge of what planet they would crash into really had little consequence.

At the pinnacle of his power, to protect them from the forces of space that would attempt to pull their bodies apart, Vegeta pushed off from the metallic tiles beneath his feet, rising into the air with great speed, as he broke through the thick interior of the ceiling. Though his raised energy succeeded to protect him from any extensive wounds, his ki was centrally focused on Bulma, cradling her fragile form with its immense power, ultimately leaving him vulnerable to the jagged plate of the last layer of the ships exterior protection. His ki was raised to a degree that it had melted the metal, only proving to worsen the result, as the shard of titanium embedded itself six-inches into his left calf, the end exposed molded to his scarred skin, clinging to the tissue vigorously. Cursing under his breath, Vegeta didn't even pause as a large explosion thundered within his ears; the ship reduced to disfigured clumps of metal torched with fire and other such debris. Burnt flesh was pungent within the charged air, as thick as the layer of smoke that resulted from the explosion.

The gravitational forces of the planet immediately began to grip them, pulling them to the blood red sands that served as its surface. He let his combat booted feet come in contact with the tainted sands roughly, the crimson particles shifting restlessly beneath his weight. Winds from the east billowed through the atmosphere, agitating his still fiery ki, sending waves of motion through his hair. Rouged formations jutted from the ground to the west, forming perilous mountains to conquer the treacherous land, their peaks reaching high into the blazoned skies. The peculiar heat of the planet created hazy gases to float amongst the breezes, its poisonous fingertips seeking the lungs of those who dared to breathe. Yet it wasn't the treacherous lands they stood upon that put Vegeta on edge.

It was the ki he felt upon it.

The very same signature of life that had haunted his mind for over ten years- the very one that had destroyed his life. If destiny had ever been for a good cause, Vegeta would not be one to support that fact. It had been against him since day one. And as it had manipulated his life through the endless years of torture, he knew, that if nothing else, it was the only factor that he could anticipate. They say that fate is a blind puzzle, that we have no foresight into its game. But they were wrong; it was just as scheming and calculating as he. One could play the pawn for only so long before being either crowned- or decimated from the game.

It was Frieza...and he was there.

Well he had survived thus far, so now it was his turn to play the riddled knight, he would either be crowned with triumph, or cast away into the passing winds. Some years had passed since his last encounter with the ivory beast, but it did none to wear away the memory of the tyrant's cruelty, nor the malicious glint within its blood drenched eyes. The hours that would soon pass would prove lethal, Vegeta knew, but to whom the mortal wound would be dealt he was still not privy to. The only certainty within his mind was the current task at hand; distancing himself from Bulma. She would need to steel herself for the events that would come to pass. And for all the pain he had caused her, he vowed he would save her the anguish of loss.

He owed her as much.

...that was his last self-less thought, as he was met with the accursed image of his tormentor.