*****

To be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering.
~John Milton

*****

The sight of the sleeping and silent woman in satin ivory underwear was not what Vegeta had expected to see upon walking into the galley. But it was the sight that had met his eyes, and he'd had numerous options in how to initially react to the situation. He could have asked why there was so much noise going on, or made a comment about why Radditz wasn't training. He could have demanded to know why the soldier with the woman in the first place, or he could have even just simply inquired as to why there were so many fruit peelings on the table.

But, no. He hadn't chosen any of those reactions. Instead, his mind and his senses had focused on her and her state of dress. Or undress, if he continued listening to a particular part of his anatomy. To make matters worse, Radditz was there, able to bear witness to his lack of control, his weakness. But come to think about it, Why was Radditz there? As the shock of the woman started to fade, Vegeta quickly began to consider other anomalies in the situation.

"What is going on, Radditz?," he questioned softly.

Radditz nervously cleared this throat. He seemed to doing that a lot lately, he thought to himself. But he knew there was no escape from the shame he had let befall him. "She had a little too much dragonsblood, Oujisama."

"WHAT?!?," Vegeta snarled. He couldn't believe to stupidity of his usually highly-reliable guard. But how the situation came to be didn't matter right then. He needed to get the woman to bed, and though he wanted nothing more than that, these were not exactly the circumstances under which he wished it to happen.

The woman stirred slightly, murmuring unintelligibly and shifting her position. The robe opened wider, exposing more porcelain skin. Vegeta felt the heat of desire fly through his body once again. Dammit! When would he become accustomed to her body? Never, the voice whispered in his head. He sneered, his innate self-superiority responding with an immediate denial, more than willing to engage his subconscious in another internal debate over the woman.

However, the woman began to cough and convulse violently. Both Radditz and the Prince reached her side at the same moment, and Vegeta was once again forced to question what his companion had been doing with the woman. The look of concern and protectiveness on the older Saiya-jin's face was more than a mere human weakling should warrant in one such as he, even if she were the Key.

"Bulma?," Radditz asked softly, not noticing the Oujisama's close scrutiny. Vegeta had to stifle the jealous urge to singe Radditz' head to ash when he realized the warrior had learned the woman's name before him.

She heard Radditz' voice calling to her, and Bulma opened her eyes slowly, groggily, unable to focus. She was aware only of the fact that two very large men were in very close proximity to her, and she felt irritation that they should be so close to her as she was sleeping. One did smell rather nice, though, like sweat and salt and, well, man. Then she knew no more as blackness once again consumed her.

Vegeta caught Bulma easily in his arms, once again marveling at her lightness, her fragility. He swept her into his arms and was rewarded for his services by her snuggling deeper into his embrace. Every time we meet, little one, I end up carrying you, he thought tenderly. But then he immediately scowled when he realized he was once again allowing himself to be drawn in by her power. He also noticed that Radditz watched his Prince with a wary eye, as if he did not trust him.

Irritated and angered, Vegeta barked his orders to the soldier. "Clean this place, and then warm up. We spar in an hour."

"It will be as you command," Radditz replied with a slight bow. He realized that any resistance or questions would only goad the young man further.

Vegeta then stalked out of the galley and strode across the hall to his own room. He hesitated, as if rethinking his course. But then he completely turned directions and headed towards the courtesan's den, even though he knew he might be making a huge mistake, but also driven by the fact that he no longer gave a damn.

He gently laid Bulma upon the bed, knowing it to be softer and easier to sleep in than the one in his room. His customary smirk graced his lips as he thought of all the conquests he had made in this room. Usually he took a woman (or several) after he'd won an important battle or defeated a particularly challenging enemy. Vegeta didn't make it a practice to fuck anything female and breathing, like some of his race did, but he by no means practiced celibacy. A woman was his reward to himself after doing well on the battlefield, and as there had been many battles well fought, so too had there been many women. All those women, some of them the most beautiful and highly-skilled in the galaxy, became nonexistent next to this blue-haired beauty from next to nowhere, who he very much suspected was a virgin.

He grinned at the thought, his chest puffing out with masculine pride, at the thought of being the first to initiate her into the pleasurable world of bed play. The thought that she'd had others before him caused a dark scowl to cross his face, black jealousy rolling in his stomach, but he dismissed it from his mind. Even if she wasn't pure, she would never know another man's touch save his own from now on. I haven't even tasted her lips, and yet she has me completely entranced.

It then hit him that he would never, never, let her go. She was in his blood just as sure as the harsh crags and mountains of Vegetasei. Just as much as the lust for battle sung through his veins. She had ruined him for others, just with her mere presence, and he vowed to himself no one else would ever touch her. He would kill her before he let that happen. But he truly never expected things between them to come to that. He was Prince of the Saiya-jins, heir to the throne and the most powerful of his kind. Soon, he would be the most powerful in all the galaxy. It was inconceivable that she should not welcome him with open arms.

The feelings of weakness, rage, helplessness, against the sweet torment that was this woman seemed to subside, at least for a while. He couldn't say that were not going to come back, but he knew the conflict they caused him were nothing compared to the battle he'd waged these last three days not to touch her. As Prince, he was not used to reigning in his desires. Why should he start now?

The thought of his considerable position gave him pause. As prince, he would never be allowed to take her as his mate. It was simply unheard of. A Saiya-jin warrior could take an alien concubine or sex slave to his bed all he wanted, but he could not poison the purity of his race's blood with that of a foreigner's. Children produced from such unions, while allowed to live, were often regarded as nothing more than, well, nothing. They could not raise among the ranks of warriors, they could not lay claim to any holdings or property of their Saiya-jin parent, and they could definitely not bear the heir to the throne of Vegetasei. Perhaps if Bulma were a strong warrior, with power comparable to his own, tradition could be changed for the sake of her status as Key. However, Vegeta hardly believed that would ever happen, and so at some point in time he would have to take an appropriate mate, if for breeding purposes only. He wasn't quite sure how Bulma would react to such an arrangement. Oh, well. It doesn't really matter.

It would not stop him from claiming her, this very night.

The knowledge that Bulma was his made the Prince swell with a sense of pride and victory. Though he knew she was a weakness, he didn't feel weak. In fact, thinking about possessing her made him feel stronger, more vibrant, more alive. Of course, he was also in the throws of a huge ego trip, for he had fully convinced himself that while she did have a certain measure of power over him, soon, very soon, he would tame that power and bend it to his will, as he had done with every other possession he'd owned. The challenge of molding her spirit to his liking was fast becoming just as much a turn on as the woman herself. Looking at the ivory-clad beauty lying supine in the bed, her pale coloring contrasting wonderfully with its dark coverings, Vegeta knew it wasn't a question of if, but when, he gained more power over her than she had of him and forced her complete and total capitulation to his will.

It was what he wanted most in the universe at this particular moment.

He was the Prince of the Saiya-jins.

He always got what he wanted.

With that final thought, he left the woman resting after he'd made sure her sleep was one of rest, not a fever brought on by the dragonsblood. Satisfied that she would be fine, he made his way to the training room, planning to work up a good appetite for the night's later activities.

*****

He had already pretty much developed a plan that would integrate Bulma into his life as smoothly as possible. As the Key, she would placed in a very precarious position. She would not, of course, be allowed her freedom. However, she would also be guarded against any who might do her harm. While Vegeta did not disagree with this, he would not be allowed to protect her. In fact, he'd probably rarely see her. The Super Saiya-jin and his Key together would make too easy a target for an assassination attempt. This separation was unacceptable to the Prince. Vegeta could barely stand being away from her right now, and she was only down the hall.

So, his plan was simple. No one would know Bulma's true identity until the need for the Super Saiya-jin became dire. The blue-haired woman was a special treasure picked up after a disappointing recon mission. If the plan didn't work, he'd come up with something else. The means to his end were not important, but the woman would be his. He would not risk losing her before he'd even had a chance with her. She would be a part of his life, and he would not let her go. Now that he could admit that without self-recrimination, he felt lighter, more unburdened than he had felt since first meeting her. His pride did still resent her power over him. However, it was counterbalanced by his determination to control that power. If he couldn't, he would kill both of them trying.

Approaching the training room, Vegeta knew it was time to see if his plan was going to work. Fooling the Court would be no problem, as long as he could make Nappa and Radditz vow to never breath a word about Bulma's identity as Key without his permission. Vegeta was not worried about his old sensei; Nappa would give his Ouji-sama anything, even his head big, meaty head on a silver platter, if that was what Vegeta required.

Radditz, however, was a different story. The older warrior had served Vegeta well in the ten years he'd been a member of the Prince's Royal Guard. But the way Radditz had been looking at the girl, no matter that the look had been more fatherly than lustful, had planted seeds in Vegeta's head that he must watch the third-class-soldier-turned-Elite-Royal-Guard more closely, at least for the next few months. The request he would make of Radditz would be one step in the journey of deciding if his warrior's loyalty was waning.

He was jostled from his thoughts as the wall beside him suddenly caved outward. Vegeta grinned. Whatever the state of Radditz' loyalties, he could always be counted upon for a good fight. Forgetting momentarily the dangerous deception he was about to embark upon, Vegeta entered the training room and felt the singing heat of battle embrace him. He was home.

*****

She was dreaming again. She knew this because it was the same dream she'd been having for three straight days, only this time she seemed to be watching the actions instead of actually experiencing them. Kinda of like an out of body experience...

She saw herself walking in the field, tripping over the body, realizing it was her dead lover. She saw herself try to run, only to be caught by that body as it transformed into him. Bulma wanted to scream at herself to run harder, to not give in, that the tender look he was giving her at the moment was just a lie, a ruse, to try and manipulate her into submission. Any minute he would turn angry and mocking and cruel. She tried screaming all of this to her dream-self, felt her throat turn raw with the sheer violence of her screams, but she heard only silence.

Then the moment came. His once-tender lips transformed into his arrogant smirk, his eyes glazed over with mania, his embrace tautened with possessive jealousy. Bulma wept aloud for her dream-self, for the humiliation, the cruelty, the pain, she was about to suffer underneath this monster.

But then something strange happened.

Just as suddenly as the demon had appeared, it vanished, leaving only the man and the woman joining in a fevered, but loving, embrace, as if starved for one another. No pain, anger, jealousy, or sadness clouded their passion. Only they existed, and their love.

He began caressing her tenderly, and she did the same to him. They explored one another's body with an almost shy reverence, tumbling and laughing in the wildly-blowing grasses with carefree abandon.

Suddenly Bulma felt herself once again in the dream. She was being caressed, kissed, stroked into heavenly oblivion, and she knew instinctively that it was right and good and pure.

And she allowed herself to give way to the pleasure, to embrace it, no, him, fully, lovingly, for eternity...

*****

Vegeta left the sparring session and entered his 'playroom', as he liked to call it, feeling fully invigorated. Both his guardsmen, though not as strong as he, were incredibly powerful and always gave their Prince their best. Of course, Vegeta could do no less than they, and despite his not having transformed into the Super Saiya-jin, both warriors would be spending the night in the regen tanks.

He was also very satisfied that his plan was going to work. Both Nappa and Radditz had agreed without comment to his demand, and he hadn't even had to offer an explanation as to why. Nappa, of course, questioned nothing the Ouji-sama did or said. His absolute loyalty had never, would never, be in doubt. Not like Radditz. But the he had surprised the Prince when he had nodded his agreement unhesitatingly right along with Nappa. Vegeta had, however, seen a spark of suspicion in Radditz' gaze. But as long as his men's actions were loyal, Vegeta didn't give a fuck about what they thought. At least not tonight...he thought as he leered at the woman in his bed.

She was still asleep as Vegeta padded quickly across the room to the bed, discarding clothing, gloves, and boots along the way. He slowed his approach as he neared the foot of the bed, drinking in the sight of her. She was a goddess reincarnated, he decided, sent to ensnare him with her beauty. Though Vegeta was not usually poetic in his description of women, this one did something to him that no other had before. He desired her above all else in this world, not just physically. He also longed to master her spirit. He wanted her to be his in all ways possible. He ached to possess her.

He just wish he had a name for this new emotion.

Unable to resist temptation any longer, he crawled onto the bed, stretching out beside her. She lay on her back, though her robe had somehow been removed and was now pinned beneath her. By the disarray of the coverlet and pillows, Vegeta could only assume that she'd been having more nightmares. This thought caused his brow to frown in displeasure as he ran a few silky strands of her blue hair through his fingers. He was unsettled by the thought of her in distress.

But then a soft moan escaped her lips, and his thoughts once more turned to claiming her. I will help her to have no more cause for nightmares, he smirked arrogantly as he ran his finger across her torso, easily unhooking the front clasp of her bra and releasing her breasts. He marveled at their exquisite perfection as his hand lightly grazed the undersides of those succulent globes and trailed down to the satiny flesh of her thighs. At the slightest sensation of his flesh upon hers, she moaned again.

Vegeta's control began to slip, and raising himself above her, he captured her mouth with his, gently nipping her full lower lip with his teeth. He kissed her softly, but then harder as she opened her mouth and pulled him to her. Their tongues mated frantically as Vegeta continued running his hands up and down long, lithe form, ripping away her panties as if they were tissue.

It was only when he broke the kiss that he realized she was still in the netherealm of unconsciousness. Perhaps the dragonsblood was too much for her, he thought with a wicked grin. He knew exactly how to waken her.

Nudging her thighs apart with his knee, he positioned himself at her entrance, lightly teasing her folds to increase her excitement. She gasped and arched against him violently, pressing her breasts into his chest. Vegeta then lost all control and thrust in one powerful motion into her tight, warm sheathe. As he felt her virginity yield, he kissed her once more, hard and fast, swallowing her high gasp of pain as she fully awakened. Pulling away from her lips, his black eyes meeting her tear-filled blue ones.

"No," she whispered slowly, as if in disbelief. "No! Please, gods, no!"

"Hush, little one," Vegeta murmured, nipping her delicate nose before burying his own in her hair. His breath warm and tickled her ear as he continued, "The pain will lessen in a moment."

She continued breathing shallowly, feeling the pain ebb, but not her panic. Her mind was too clouded, she couldn't tell if she was dreaming or not.

His voice echoed again in her again, "Shh, my darling, shh. Feel me, and know that you are mine."

But she began struggling against his iron embrace, yelling "No!" louder and more emphatically.

Vegeta raised himself, trying to regain his tight hold on her, but then he saw the hate in her eyes, hate behind the pain and confusion. Hate for him. His mind snapped in a wild rage, and he began moving again, roughly pinioning her arms above her with one wrist. His other hand traced her face, her throat as she writhed and thrashed beneath him, as he continued moving within her, wanting nothing more than to conquer her rebellion. Her body arched in both panic and ecstasy under him, and he began to taste victory over her...

But then one of her arms broke free...

And he was flying through the air, pain ripping through his chest, tearing him in half, as she screamed a final, resounding, "NO!"

He landed against the wall, smashing mirrors, hearing their twinkling, feeling tiny grains of metal and glass grazing into his skin as he crashed into the floor. Across the room, Bulma had raised to her knees, still in shock and confusion, eyes streaming an endless flow of tears, a faint, yellow glow illuminating her right hand.

Panting, she raised her other hand against him, as if to ward off another attack. "No," she whispered.

Then she collapsed.

Vegeta lay on the floor, broken glass all around him, stunned by the pain in his should, vaguely wondering how the woman had managed to blast him with a ki beam. He was more haunted, however, by the intensity of the rage and hatred he had seen burning in Bulma's beautiful aquamarine eyes.

He'd killed more people on more planets than he could remember. Purging missions never bothered him. The suffering of innocents had no effect upon his soul. In fact, he had reveled in the blood and gore he could cause with just one blast from his hands.

The very same hands that had nearly broken, may still very well have broken, the most precious thing he had ever found.

He continued to sit, quiet, still, glass embedded in his back and legs, fire eating his chest, but all that pain forgotten as the image of her eyes burned in his mind.

* * * * *