Ok, this fic is a loose interpretation of the Greek myth of 'Eros and Psyche,' although there are also little parallels with Medusa and the movie 'Ever After.' I do not own DBZ and this fic does have sex in it.

By: Jita-Kun

He entered the room silently, knowing that at this time of night her weak human body would be tired. Oh, he knew she'd wake up, she needed answers to many questions, but for the present moment, he just wanted to watch her sleep. Saiyan eyes were so much more advanced than most other humanoid species, so even in the pitch of black he could see her full lips slightly vibrate as the breaths of her light sleep made their way past them.

By the fates she was beautiful, growing ever more radiant as the days passed. He remembered the first time he had ever laid eyes on her. A slave taken from the planet Chikyuu, she was supposed to have been cleaning out one of the higher level science labs, but ended up tinkering around with a few of the inventions instead. Her respect had increased in the Science community but the Queen (the second wife of his father) was outraged that a slave would step out of their station in life, and ordered her to be whipped.

It was remarkable that not one scar appeared on the girl's perfect skin, and it was said she never cried out once. This impressed Vegeta to no end, but it was not the end of the little human's punishments.

The Queen was an incredibly jealous woman, and when she had found out that a mere slave could be more beautiful than she, she did whatever she could to prevent the possibility of the King taking the weak female as his new consort. She couldn't kill the human outright since she was technically the slave of the King, and while it is the norm for human marriages to be based on equality, the same could not be said for the Saiyans.

So the Queen kept a watchful eye on the girl and any little mistake she made was rewarded with a severe punishment. To give the girl credit, she rarely made mistakes, nor would she ever give the Queen the satisfaction of seeing her scream in pain.

Vegeta did not like the way his beauty was being treated, but he could not, would not, step in to stop it. He was absolutely smitten with the girl, but to show any affection for her would open up the gates of mockery or ostracism. He would not be called weak, so to distance himself from her, he'd take to his country retreat and train there.

However, it was earlier that morning that he made his fateful decision. The Queen had accused the girl of stealing food from the kitchen and 'evidence' was brought forth, supposedly found hidden in the girl's quarters. The King found her guilty and ordered her to be taken to the prison where she was to wait execution at sunset.

Never again would he see his exotic beauty. Her silken blue hair would turn coarse in the ground. Sapphire eyes would be closed to the world forever, and her creamy, smooth skin would become white and cold upon death. Pride and will, seemingly as strong as his, would be snuffed out of existence. No! He would not have it! And so, he broke from his role as silent admirer and had called upon his most trusted comrade, Kakarott of the Zephyrus Clan, to aid him in his plan.

In the early afternoon, an unnoticed figure unlocked the cells of the Royal Prison from the main station, causing the guards on duty to have their hands full, trying to recapture or kill the escaping convicts. With this distraction, Kakarott took the blue haired human from her cell and flew her away, letting the guards assume she escaped or was killed with the mob.

He told her she would be safe and taken care of and left her to explore Vegeta's secluded sanctuary on her own. Having no gravity harness or ki protection, she was forced to stay within the confines of the retreat.

Night came quickly and so she retired to the Master bedroom, sinking into sheets of the finest quality, marveling at how wonderful it felt to once again experience such luxuries.

The Saiyan Prince shook himself out of his reverie and quietly undressed. Tonight he would allow himself to touch her, but he must not let her see him. He would not expose himself nor put her in any more danger by knowing who he was. With her he would not be the Prince of all Saiyans.

Now fully disrobed, he slid in under the sheets and wrapped his arms around the sleeping girl. He smirked as he realized that she too was without clothes and brought her closer into his embrace, burrowing his nose into the crook of her neck.

Vegeta held his breath as he felt the woman in his arms stir, and then suddenly go rigid as she realized that someone was in bed with her. More specifically, a naked man was pressed up against her.

Before she could open her mouth to scream, Vegeta rolled on top of her and covered her mouth with his hand.

Bulma's thoughts were racing a mile a minute. She could feel the weight of the man on top of her but was not able to see him in the black of the room. Even as her eyes started to adjust to the dark, she could barely make out any sort of figure. The restrictive hand on her mouth loosened a bit as she felt warm breath by her ear, making the hairs on her neck stand on end as she shivered involuntarily.

"Woman," a deep, low voice rumbled in her ear. "If you stop struggling and don't scream, I promise I will not hurt you. We are in the middle of no where, so it would be useless to scream. Is that understood?"

Bulma slowly nodded as tears streaked down her face. She should have known her life couldn't have automatically gotten better. Here was the catch to having been saved from death and put into the lap of luxury. She was about to be raped.

The hand was lifted from her mouth and very tenderly wiped away her tears. The motion caught Bulma off guard since it was soft and felt like a caress of that of a lover. Then she heard a throaty chuckle.

"You do not cry when a whip slices your skin, but you cry at the fear of something that has not nor will not happen. You are an enigma woman."

"My name is Bulma," she said tartly. "And do you mean to tell me that you crawled naked into my bed, pressed yourself against me and have no intention of raping me? I am not stupid you know. Do not try to pretend that that is not your intention."

She felt his lips lightly brush her chin. "Such a fiery woman, you presume too much. This bed is mine, you are the stranger here. Everything you see is mine, and it was because of me you were saved. I will give you free reign of my home in the day, it is safest for you here, but at night you are required to come to my bed. I can guarantee that no harm shall befall you little human, not from me, not from anyone, and in time, yes, I will have you completely, but not until you will have me."

"And I'm supposed to believe you?"

"I could have had you numerous times by now and yet I haven't forced myself on you. It would take very little effort seeing as how weak you humans are. I have proven I am trustworthy, however you must promise me one thing. You are never to try to see my face. You can have everything you've ever wanted brought here as long as you promise me that."

Seeing as she had no other options at the moment, she agreed to the Saiyan's request. This seemed to put him in a lighter mood as she was gathered close to his heavily muscled chest and told to go to sleep.


Bulma woke up alone in the morning, set rather comfortable among the pillows. She noticed an open closet to her right and discovered numerous articles of women's clothing inside. Dressing in a simple, long, blue, summer dress, Bulma made her way to the kitchen, finding Kakarott already there.

He explained that he would come by every other day to bring her whatever she needed. By the light of the sun, she was mistress of the house, so she could do anything she wanted. Bulma was a little surprised. She still had had her suspicions about the man in her bed, but so far, what he told her was true. After taking her list of requested supplies, Kakarott returned a few hours later. Bulma was giddy when she checked that all the supplies were there. She started to work right away, excited at the prospect of having her own lab again.

All too soon it was nighttime, and Bulma had to fulfill her part of the agreement. Slowly removing her clothes, she left them in a pile on the floor and crawled into the satin sheets of the bed. She laid there waiting, wide-awake, and when the sun set completely, she heard the door to her chamber open then close. Only the occasional sound of movement gave any indication that she wasn't alone in the darkened room. After a few minutes, she felt someone join her in bed and shivered as he brought her closer to him.

"Kakarott showed me the list you made out for him," Vegeta began. "You should have seen the looks he was getting. Imagine, a third class warrior going around asking for science and building equipment. Quite priceless."

"Well, you said I could have anything I wanted!"

"I did, didn't I?" he murmured into her ear then dipped lower to graze her neck with is teeth. He brought his hand up from the arm supporting her and buried it into her aqua locks, and raising his other hand, he gently cupped her left breast, delighting in her gasp.

"Y-you said," Bulma stammered at his teasing fondle, "you w-wouldn't . . ."

He chuckled in a way that made Bulma's knees weak. "I said I wouldn't take you completely woman. But you're right, this isn't really fair," his arousal was evident against her inner thigh..

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he laid her upon his chest and began stroking her hair.

"Why?" she whispered softly after several silent minutes.

"You are one of a kind woman, I had to have you."

"We are all unique, that's not a good enough answer."

"No, little one, you are different."

Bulma decided not to press the issue. "You won't let me see your face, but will you give me a name?"

". . . Call me Geta."

That was all that was said for the night.


In the nights that followed, Bulma would tell "Geta" of her old life on Chikyuu or he would entertain her with stories of great wars and battles. It wasn't so much the actual story that interested her, but it was his voice and passion that kept her captivated. However, one night they got into a rather heated argument on how barbaric or not the Saiyan race was. She had actually jumped out of bed and started throwing things, hoping to hit the seemingly invisible Geta. She almost screamed in terror when he grabbed her, thinking he would beat her. But he just brought her back to bed and held her closer and tighter than ever before, mumbling to himself on how she has the audacity to call him barbaric when she was the one throwing things at him. He noticed how she was trembling and he calmed her by stroking her back and saying things like "Stupid woman, I told her I'd never hurt her."

That night of sleep had actually been Bulma's favourite.

The days were rather productive for Bulma and her lab grew to be bigger than her one at home. Actually, each day she started to consider, more and more, where she was now her home.

She even missed her bedmate during the day. But that, she convinced herself, was only because she was so lonely and isolated when the sun was up, and her only real companionship came at night. That was all there was to it, wasn't it? She knew how she'd find out.


That night, as Bulma laid on Vegeta's chest, she traced her fingers along it and noted the numerous scars.

"You have been in many battles," she spoke up, more to herself than Vegeta. She felt him take a sharp intake of breath as she lowered her hand to caress his abs. "Such a fit, strong warrior, you must be very powerful." Then she dragged her fingertips around to his back and took a hold of his tail. She tickled the base and began a gentle massage along the fur. His breathing became more laboured as he tried to control his body and then elicited a low growl when she squeezed the appendage tightly. "My, what control you must have. You are far from weak." Finally, she brought her hand back front and teasingly brushed it against the length of his member. "So . . . big. You must give great pleasure to women."

Vegeta gasped, then rolled so he was on top of her. "Do you . . . want me to give you pleasure?" his tone was almost pleading.

"Yes," she breathed and he immediately covered her mouth with his, drinking her in as he had longed to for so long. Their lips parted and he lifted her neck to he could claim her as his mate.

In a frenzied assault, Vegeta's hands roamed up and down Bulma's body - wanting to touch anything and everything at once. For so long he had waited for this and now that it was happening, he was losing all sense of control. It didn't help how she was urging him on with her moans, and arching her body to his touch. But it didnít matter. At long last he would have his goddess.

With one powerful, almost desperate thrust, he buried himself within her. She surrounded him, welcomed him and as he went deeper and deeper, he lost himself within her.

Bulma wrapped herself around Vegeta, joining them in the oldest form of unity. It was not gentle, nor rough, but powerful and passionate. Together they rocked in an unbreakable embrace, eventually driving them to a mind numbing release.

They collapsed together onto the damp sheets and before drifting off to sleep, Vegeta gave Bulma a slow, explorative, heart-melting kiss.

From that night on, they'd always make love at least once before going to sleep.


Countless weeks passed and Bulma had never been so happy. However, every now and then a nagging voice would go off in her mind, questioning why Geta would never show her his face. Perhaps not letting her see his face was just an excuse to cover up not coming to see her in the day. If that was the case, then why would he insist on late night trysts . . . unless he was married and stayed with his wife during the day! No no no, she was being silly. But she did reason that she couldnít' go through life only being with the man she loved (yes, she knew she loved him dearly) only at night and never in the day. All they could do was talk and make love, and while it was wonderful, she wanted more - she wanted to be with Geta, know him and love him. So, she figured, it was time to learn the truth.

She kept a candle and some matches hidden in a drawer by the bed. After some arduous lovemaking, Bulma almost forgot her plan, but remembered as Vegeta fell asleep next to her.

Moving ever so slyly out of the arms of her mysterious lover, she quietly slid open the drawer and got out a match and candle. Too worn out from the evening, Vegeta didn't hear Bulma strike the match's head to light the candle. She smiled as a small space was illuminated around her and moved the candle over to Vegeta's face.

She gasped in horror, recognizing immediately who he was. She was bombarded with the memories of the jealous Queen and the torture she had been put through, and while she didn't fear the Prince directly, it was what he represented. If the Queen ever found out . . .

"NO!" she would no got back, and in Bulma's moment of despair, she dropped the candle on the mattress.

Vegeta had awoken the moment she spoke out loud and helped her hastily put out the fire in their bed. In order to air out the room, they moved into the lit hallway, neither one speaking as they caught their breath.

Finally, Vegeta looked up to glare at Bulma. Seeing the fear in her eyes angered him even more.

"I trusted you Bulma," he growled. "Why did you break your promise? I can't believe you. I warned you about this, I gave you everything and all you had to do was keep one little promise. How dare you not trust me."

"Ge. . . Vegeta, I-"

"Save it woman! I hope you're happy now." Turning on his heel, Vegeta went back into the bedroom, grabbed his clothes and flew out the window.

"Noooo! Vegeta, come back, please," Bulma sobbed. She couldnít run outside after him because of the gravity, so wrapping a sheet around her body, she crumpled to the ground and cried herself to sleep.


The next day was Kakarott's day to visit, and as he entered the compound, he was nearly bowled over by Bulma, demanding that he take her to the Prince.

"I'm sorry, but the Prince is on a training retreat and only the King knows where he is."

Bulma gulped, "Then take me to see the King. I will understand if you don't want to protect me, but just get me to the Palace."

Was she serious? It would be suicide going back there. But Kakarott conceded, for he admired the woman who had caught the Prince's fancy. Lifting her in his arms, he put a ki shield around them and flew towards the Palace.


Bulma barged into the throne room, surprising its occupants while Kakarott stood off to the side. Looking only at the King and not the Queen, Bulma begged for him to tell her where the Prince was.

"This is outrageous!" yelled the Queen. "You were sentenced to death months ago and now you come in here thinking we'll just give you what you want? Guards, execute her right now!"

"Hold it!" boomed the King as he stepped down from his throne to get a good look at Bulma. He noticed with amusement the marks on Bulma's neck and realized what his son had done. "No one is to touch her. The Prince has marked her and she is therefore his to deal with."

"My King," spoke his wife. "You can't be serious. This troublemaker is a worthless slave. You are King, have her killed."

"Silence!" He turned back to Bulma, "So, you think you're worthy of my son."

"I don't . . . I . . . yes, yes I do!" Bulma stood straighter.

"Then have her prove it," the Queen snapped.

King Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "That is a good point. What do you suggest?"

"If she is truly worthy of a Saiyan, have her bring back the head off Freeza."

King Vegeta smirked, knowing his wife would choose such an impossible task, but he couldn't argue with her, she was right - Bulma had to prove her worth.

"I accept," the human spoke up, glaring coldly at the female Saiyan. "I will bring back the head of Freeza." She turned confidently and walked out the throne room.

Once outside in the hall, she turned to Kakarott and whispered, "Who's Freeza?"


"Ok, this is the fastest ship I could find, you should probably reach Chikyuu in a day. Just think of it as a vacation home, only you have to kill a pink, murderous monster who's collecting dragonballs to make any wish he wants," Kakarott said to Bulma. "Do you have everything?"

"Yes, and thank you very much Kakarott, I really appreciate it."

He waved when he got out of the ship and watched her take off, knowing she was heading for trouble. He immediately set off back to the country retreat, hoping the Prince had cooled down somewhat by now. His hunch was right, though he had to wait a couple of hours before Vegeta actually returned.

He did not take the news lightly, that his beloved was rushing off to what seemed like certain death, all to prove herself to him. He had been a fool dammit, and now he had to go and rescue her. If that meant fighting Freeza himself, so be it. He was foretold as the next Super Saiyan, he should be able to defeat anyone! Getting into a space pod, he was determined to save Bulma.


Apparently, his little human didn't need any help whatsoever. By the time he arrived, she already had Freeza's head in a bag and was picking up seven orange spheres.

"Vegeta!" she exclaimed, running into his arms, giggling at his shocked expression. "I spent months in isolation during the day, having nothing but my lab to keep me occupied. I'm a genius Vegeta. I created a ki blade during my second week at your place, as if a purple monster is any match for me!"

He grinned at the woman in his arms. She was a rare one indeed, always surprising him.

"I'm sorry Vegeta," Bulma said seriously, but before she could elaborate, he caught her in a fierce liplock. They could talk later.


The King stood over Freeza's head, impressed with the young woman in front of him. She was definitely worthy, but his wife's ranting to the contrary once again raised an interesting point.

"Unless you are Saiyan, you can never become Queen."

Smiling slyly, Bulma unwound a tail from her waist and wiggled it in the air. "Freeza never did get to make a wish . . ."

Vegeta smirked, standing next to his mate and glanced at his father who nodded approvingly.

The Saiyan Empire embraced Bulma, welcoming her as one of their own. Even the Queen knew she couldn't do anything about it and accepted it, realizing Bulma was not a threat to her. She could not say the same though, for Pomadora, one of the bathing slaves that became the King's consort while the Queen had worried over Bulma. However, that is a completely different story . . .


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