Chapter 9 – Bulma's Fantasy
With heated determination, Vegeta decided to wipe that yaro, Yamcha from his onna's thoughts forever. Raising his chi, he burst through the door and interrupted their little party. What he found threw him off guard. "Uht."
"Shhhh!" hissed Bulma over her shoulder then went back to eating her popcorn and watching the movie screen. The agitated prince stood blinking and the turbulent energy that surrounded him died. His onna was alone and comfortably situated in a small and lavish theatre with her favorite blue jean clad legs propped on the seat in front of her. Her plain white tee and sneaks reflected the color tones of the movie she was watching.
The sound of Vegeta's voice drew his attention to the screen. "Men in pink. How bazaar!" Yamcha and the others were laughing out on the terrace. Although he had heard himself, Vegeta wasn't visible on the silver screen until he emerged from the washroom. This was another one of Bulma's memories.
With clenched fists, the movie Saiyan eyed the pink shirt and yellow pants he wore, stating, "This is ridiculous, I'm a warrior not a variety of flower!" At the time, Vegeta was not yet aware of the influence that blue haired vixen had on him. Seeing this memory and the mockery he tolerated now convinced him otherwise. Despite that ridiculous curly hairdo the younger Bulma sported, he had difficulty concealing his interest in her.
On screen, Bulma with hands on her hips chortled over her shoulder, "Well you smell good, hahaha…" Apparantly, the bozos sensed his restraint as well for they laughed lightheartedly at Vegeta's expense. Knowing what happened next, the real Vegeta smirked as he walked down the aisle to the seating row his onna was in.
"Stop that! Stop it or I'll blast you all!" His threat silenced them all…except for his onna in the second seat, three rows up from the screen. She chuckled quietly as she patted the seat next to her.
The Curly blue haired vixon on the screen suggested to the fuming Saiyan in pink, "Loosen up. Fighting is no fun. Just relax. If you want to find Goku, just stay here, he'll come. I've known Goku since he was five years old. Trust me. He'll be back."
The present Vegeta quietly commented as he sat down, "Trust you? How could I have been so gullible?"
Bulma smiled to herself before she popped another piece of popcorn in her mouth. As of late, she enjoyed their bantering, but this time, she didn't want to encourage further interruption. Then she remembered her manners and without looking, passed the box of popcorn over to her mate. Hearing his familiar 'no' grunt, prompted her to withdraw the offer.
The next memory of Vegeta shown on the screen was less significant. Bulma ventured to glance at her Saiyan and noticed his princely outfit. "Nice of you to dress up. Royal blue suits you much better than pink."
Vegeta ignored her, finding more interest in the screen in front of them. It was blatant, that many of Bulma's memories of him were not all pleasant. In fact, the majority of the early ones were regrettably unpleasant. At the time, his rage had shielded his heart, but now it was hard for him to witness the scenes. "I thought you had come to terms with our past," he said quietly after they viewed one of his verbal lash outs towards her. "I was filled with anger then. I see no purpose for you to relive these memories."
Instantly, the screen went blank and all went dark. Through the blackness, Vegeta listened to his onna's loving voice which once again guided his heart to find meaning. "Our relationship is built on our past. It is our foundation…and I wonder."
The silence that followed closed in on the Prince, as well as the darkness and he snipped, "What? Why we are still together? It is because I desire it."
"There was a time…ha,ha, many a time when I didn't desire it so."
"True." Bulma took Vegeta's hand and he blindly allowed her to guide him through this infinitely dark empty place they were in. "Afterall, we are together now. But with such a pitted and weak foundation, I wonder if it could last…"
Though it was his deepest fear, Vegeta quietly expressed his concern as a command, "You will not leave me, onna."
Bulma's soothing voice eased his heart. "I will not leave you."
"Then wake up. Our son is worried."
"Oh…not - just – yet,"
Like morning light, the land around them became increasingly visible and vibrant. The cloudless sky was as blue as it could possibly be. The field they stood in was littered with swaying flowers of all shapes and sizes. Surrounding ancient trees glistened with morning dew; their leaves rustled ever so slightly. Fairy like creatures sprinkled glowing pixy down on them. Vegeta guessed this was some part of Bulma's memory of Paradise. His narrowed eyes fixed on his beguiling onna. Her elegant attire provoked admiration as well as suspicion. She portrayed herself as beautiful princess holding the hand of her handsome prince with one fault. Her garb was all in white… He knew her game.
"I don't think so."
Bulma's rose colored lips went into a pout. "I thought if you couldn't say 'I love you,' then maybe you would be willing to at least say 'I do.'"
"I do what?"
Bulma let go of his hand and clasp her hands together as she looked to the sky. "Oh, it's just a little oath couples take in matrimony. You know, the priest asks: Do you take this woman to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?" She dared a peek at the brooding warrior. "It's not like anyone will know.
"Feh." Vegeta turned away and folded his arms. "We've been over this." As Bulma spoke behind him, he watched something moving among the distant trees.
"Well. You know I would never force you to say 'I love you.' I just thought this could be an option for you." Bulma took one long last look at her wedding gown before she willfully changed it to a gown even more dramatic, rich with embedded jewels that complimented the Prince's attire. She stood next to him and eagerly waived at the approaching being. "So, since you are still struggling with those three simple words, I guess you'll just have to prove it."
Wary, Vegeta took hold of her arm and forced her to face him, "I thought I already had."
Bulma's eyes narrowed and she warned, "This is my fantasy, work with me here."
The thundering gallop of the approaching horses caused Vegeta to gruffly put Bulma protectively behind him. He worked to raise he chi as the charging knights came upon them. In a side stance he raised his palm and prepared to incinerate them all. "Final Flash!" The blinding energy expelled from his hand, but his premature sense of triumph was replaced with utter disbelief. Through the energy the horsemen continued to come with one standing out from the rest. The light blue skinned, ripped bare chest being rode on a majestic white steed. His long vibrant green hair streamed freely behind him. "Zarbon! You can't be serious!"
Excitedly, Bulma took Vegeta's shoulders on tiptoe and mischievously spoke in Vegeta's ear. "Remember when I first laid eyes on him? You were the bad guy and I thought he was the hero come to save the lovely damsel in distress."
"In your dreams!"
"Exactly!" chimed Bulma as she came around Vegeta to meet her gallant captor.
Before the Prince accepted this atrocious scenario, Zarbon snatched up his onna. He and his band of thirty men thundered past, leaving the prince to blankly stare at their distancing tail ends. Then as if Bulma's lips were still close to his ear, he heard her final plea. "Please Vegeta, prove you love me." He noticed a rider-less black horse mightier than Zarbon's had trailed behind the band. It patiently waited for the Prince to react. "Grrr…onna!" From a march to a run, the Saiyan warrior leaped upon the horse with balance an ease.
Vegeta didn't go easy on the animal; transferring his agitation by aggressively spurring the beast on. The horse obliged and they were off like the wind in pursuit of the enemy. The momentum tugged at the spikes of the Prince's hair, his flowing red cape, and lashing tail. As he closed in on the horsemen, the corner of Vegeta's lips curled with the growing anticipation of battle that filled his veins. Maybe this wasn't such a bad proposal after all. Maybe slaying a bunch of lowlifes to rescue his damsel could be fun…
Something azure flipped and fluttered above the ground in front of them. The color reminded Vegeta of Bulma's eyes and he scooped it up as they flew by. It was a woman's scarf that smelled of Bulma's sweet lavender scent. He quickly tucked the cloth down his breast plate then patted his chest for safe keeping. That's when he noticed the blue leather strap that crossed his armor.
Recognizing it immediately, Vegeta twisted at the waist which caused his cape to move to the side, and found future Trunks' weapon of choice strapped to his back. Secretly, he had always wanted to wield the blade for sport, but was too proud and arrogant to do so. Sighting his first victim he drew the sword and raised it high above him. True Saiyans didn't need weapons, but since this was a fantasy…he'd save his hands for Zarbon's throat. Pointing it at the lagging horseman, Vegeta made his battle cry to let his onna know he was coming and to warn her captors of their imminent doom.
Trunks sat up and blinked at the sunlight that streamed into his room. The worry for his mother came to light and set him into motion. The boy rushed to his parent's room and he barged through the door. There, he found his mom and dad sleeping in each other's arms as if nothing was wrong. Not only that, they were both contently smiling! Did he dream it all? Not having better sense, he rushed around to his mother's side and gently shook his mothers shoulder. "Mom? Mom? Are you awake? Au-" His father immediately reached over Bulma and lightly grasped the boy's neck in a mock-threatening manner.
"We're still sleeping, go back to bed," Vegeta ordered through gritted teeth. He was not pleased with the interruption of his victory reunion with his onna. Especially since he had just convinced Bulma that Trunks could wait while she indulged him in his own bit of fantasy play. Her contented moan caused him to let go of their son and possessively ease back next to her. Before he closed his eyes, he glared at the boy and mouthed, "Go away!" Trunks' chin sullenly dropped to his chest. He took a step back and turned to go.
There was no mistaking; it was his mother's voice. Despite his father's warning, he leaped into Bulma's waiting arms. She hugged him and kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry I scared you, sweetheart. Mommy won't do it again." She sheepishly looked to her life mate and added, "Forgive me?" Like father like son, both grunted 'yes' Saiyan fashion.