A/N: I did it! I just typed the last two words of the chapter and the whole story. The End. It's really over. The Treasure of Power is finished! I started this story in February 2002 and after three years and ten months it's finished! I can't believe it. Somehow, I'm sad and at the same time happy so see the end after such a long time. Sad, because this story has been a part of my life for almost four years. I dedicated hours upon hours of typing, thinking, jotting down notes, gathering ideas, twisting and turning the story until I was finally satisfied. Until now, this story is the longest alone standing piece that I've ever written. A total of 48 chapters, 200 pages (Verdana, 7.5 pt, 7.5 pt. between paragraphs), 3.510 paragraphs and 174.060 words. This story has been witness to so many ups and downs in my life – finishing school, starting and finishing an apprenticeship, starting university, my first real heartbreak and so many other things. But, as I already said, I'm also glad. I'm happy that I brought this story to an end. I'm happy that I'm satisfied with what I've written. Happy to know that people like it. And I'm also happy and relieved to know that I now have time to finish other projects that have been put on hold for so long.
On this way I want to thank everyone who has taken some of his precious time to read my story. I also want to thank all of them, who've left a review. You guys are truly the best!
So, for the last time in this story, I want you to have fun reading it!
Epilogue
All was dark in the forest, thick clouds keeping the moon from throwing any light on the path, and a cover of thick white snow was lying on the ground. More snowflakes were silently trickling down, creating a new layer on the already existing ones and covering any tracks that might have been there. No sound was to be heard, except for the slight rustling in the trees, when a moderate breeze blew some snow from their branches.
The quiet crunching of the snow suddenly disturbed the peaceful silence, as a dapple-gray horse slowly trudged along the path. A dark hooded cloak concealed its rider's face, protecting him from the icy cold that seemed to be able to penetrate even the thickest clothes. A thin layer of snow had gathered on the rider's shoulders during his long travel and due to the incredible cold, icicles were hanging from the horses bridle.
Soon, rider and horse left the forest behind and the lights of the Western Capitol could be seen in the near distance. With a click of the tongue, the rider urged his mount into a trot, plunging through the snow and covering the remaining distance within a few minutes, soon passing the city borders, where he once again slowed his horse.
All was quiet in the streets, as most people chose to stay inside at this time of the night and during this frosty weather. However, this didn't bother the rider at all. As long as he didn't meet anyone, he wouldn't be victim of curious looks and maybe even recognized. It was already bad enough that this had to happen eventually, but for now, he'd rather not let anyone know his identity.
It had been a long journey that day and both horse and rider were exhausted, so the rider was glad when he spotted the sign of a tavern in the dim light of a lantern. The Dai Kaiou's it was called and this name caused the rider to snort. He had heard of this place – while it shouldn't be that a bad place to live at for a few days, its owner was said to be a crazy old man. However, this was the only tavern he knew of in the Western Capitol and he didn't want to waste any more time to look for another one and besides, this tavern was one of the few that had stables for the travelers' mounts.
The groom in the stables gave him a curious look, as the rider stepped into the hall, gently pulling his horse behind him, without lowering his hood. The boy got up from the chair on which he was sitting in front of a fireplace and walked up to him. "Can I help you, sir?"
The rider only nodded. "I'm going to stay for a few days. Someone needs to look after my horse." His hand wandered under his cloak and retrieved a small pouch. After having opened it, he took out one golden coin. "I believe this should suffice."
The groom stared at the coin with wide eyes, wondering who this man was, if he had obviously that much money on him. "O-of course, sir. Your horse will receive the best care."
"I expected no less."
The coin was dropped into his hand and the groom could have sworn that there had been a smirk on the rider's face, before he had turned around and left the boy with the dapple-gray gelding.
-
The tavern was loud and filled with people, mostly drunken ones, but it was a warm in there and therefore a welcome change to the cold outside. No one had noticed his entry and he weaved his way through the crowd up to the bar, where he saw an old man with wild and long white hair and an equally long beard. The old man was wearing some strange black tunic and even stranger spectacles – they had black glasses. This had to be the owner, the rider decided, and went straight to him.
"I need a room," he said without hesitation, as soon as he had reached him.
The old man looked up from the glass he was cleaning and straight at him. The rider had a bad feeling about this, as this old man seemed to look right through him, but he didn't even flinch under this scrutinizing gaze. Eventually, after incredible long seconds, the old man nodded and, muttering something under his breath, retrieved a book from underneath the counter. "How long do you plan to stay?"
"A few days," he answered. "I don't know how long exactly."
"Ah yes…" While the old man was scribbling something into the book, the rider took the chance to look around. Everybody in the tavern was minding his own business and no one was paying him any heed. "May I have your name, sir?"
The rider once again took out the pouch and dropped a few gold coins into the book. "I don't believe a name will be necessary."
"Of course not." The old man grinned at him and closed the book, before putting it back at its place. From a nail in the wooden wall behind him, he took a key with a small number engraved in it and handed it to the rider. "Is there anything else I could do for you?"
The rider appeared to be thinking for a few minutes. Despite the heat in the tavern, his fingers still felt partly frozen. Maybe something to warm his limbs wouldn't be too bad. "I take some of the best rum you have."
"Of course, sir. But this one will be on the house." With a wink, the old man retrieved a full bottle of rum from one of the cupboards behind him and put the large bottle and a mug in front of the stranger. The rider thanked him with a nod, took both bottle and mug and retreated to a free table in a dark corner, from where he could watch everything and everyone around him.
The bottle was opened with a silent 'plop' and not one drop of the brown liquid was wasted, as he poured it into the mug. The first draught was the longest and it sent a shudder down his spine. This rum was good, there was no doubt about it. He also had no doubt that he needed the whole bottle until he turned in that night.
Within a few minutes, he had emptied the first mug and already felt the calming effects of the alcohol. He started to relax a bit and also noticed the warmth that now spread through his body. The mug was refilled, but this time he took smaller sips and reveled in the burning sensation in his throat, as he took in his surroundings.
He still had a hard time to believe this, even though he had passed the city borders almost one hour ago. And he still couldn't find any reasonable explanations for his actions, though he slowly began to doubt that there were any. He hadn't needed to do this, he could have just stayed away, but still…
He had returned…
Bulma sighed, as she stared out of the window into the darkness. There was tracery on the frosted window and, somewhere in the back of her mind, Bulma noticed that it was beautiful, but her mind was too preoccupied to appreciate it. It was snowing again, but as much as she loved snow, it now only told her what she already knew. It was winter again and in a couple of days she would be celebrating Christmas.
One year, four months and nine days…
So much time had passed since she had last seen him. One year, four months and nine days since he had boarded that merchant ship to Yadrat. No news, no letter, no word, not even a rumor that he was well and, most importantly, still alive, had reached her. For all she knew, he could be dead already.
No, he couldn't be dead. If he were dead, she would know it. Her heart would tell her. And yet, the gnawing fear in the back of her mind wouldn't go away. It had been so long already… Surely it shouldn't have taken him that long to achieve what he had claimed to be his destiny. Goku had been able to do it effortlessly for more than one year now and even young Gohan had proven to be quite adept to control it, much to ChiChi's chagrin. So why was it taking him so long to come back?
Why are you so sure that he will ever come back to you? the nagging voice of her mind teased her.
Bulma sighed, grasping tightly at the straws of hope that Goku had given her. He had told her not to worry about her child growing up without a father, so she had naturally concluded that Goku knew something she didn't and that Vegeta would come back eventually. But now, her child, her son Trunks, was nine months old and his father had still not come back to them.
Trunks… A small smile appeared on her lips, as her gaze wandered to the door, behind which her son was sleeping peacefully in his crib. Ever since he had been born, he was her everything. She loved him, her parents adored him and even her friends were completely taken by the small boy. While he didn't look much like a Saiyajin, as his eyes were blue and a fine layer of lavender-colored hair was gracing his head, unlike Gohan, his facial features were undeniably those of his father.
Oh Vegeta… Bulma sighed once again, turning her attention back to the thick white snowflakes that were floating past her window. It must be incredibly cold outside. Goose bumps were appearing on her arms and a shiver ran down her spine, as she imagined being outside now. Wherever he was, Bulma hoped that he was somewhere, where it was warm. Maybe he was somewhere, where there was no winter, just eternal summer or spring… She had read of those places, countries and islands that didn't know snow and ice. Maybe he had really traveled there, which would certainly explain his long absence.
One year, four months and nine days…
It was a long time. Much had happened in that time. Not only had she given birth to her son, but Goku and ChiChi had married about one month after they had returned from the long journey to rescue her and find the Dragonballs and were now living in a small country house near Gyuu Mao. ChiChi was expecting again and Goku had kept his word of never going to sea again. He was working now, along with his father, as instructor for Physical Combat and Strategizing at the navy's academy.
This had actually been a huge surprise for everyone, as Goku was once again working for General Kaiou, only in a different field. It had taken some time, but Goku finally seemed to have let go of the grudge he had held against the General. Bulma suspected that Bardock had played an important role in this process, as the older Saiyajin got along very well with the General and had become friends with him.
Bardock had also changed a great deal over the past year. The man, who had looked so old and haggard, when she had first met him, appeared now to be a lot younger. A natural tan from spending a lot of time outside had replaced the paleness of his skin. Through hard training, he had built up all the muscles he had lost during his long captivity and his overall demeanor had become more carefree. If someone didn't know that Goku and Bardock were father and son, they could almost be mistaken for brothers, or maybe even twins.
A few days ago, the rest of the former crew of the Kintoun had also returned from a mission. They were still together and General Kaiou had given them a new ship – the Genkidama. Somehow it hadn't surprised Bulma that Krillin had been appointed Captain for this ship. He had been, after all, Goku's first mate on the Kintoun and he had done a good job while they had believed Goku to be dead. Also, before he had gone off to fight Frieza, Goku had named him Captain himself. The others were following him willingly and he was a good and fair man.
Much to their astonishment, the crew of the Genkidama had gained a new member – when she had heard of Krillin's appointment, Juuhachigou had insisted on becoming part of the crew. The Jinzoningen had found all the offers she had received in the Western Capitol beneath her, when she had been looking for work (Laundress, she had snorted, as she had returned one day. I'm a warrior and no laundress!). Krillin, who was still completely enamored of her, just couldn't deny her this request. Fortunately, as the other members of the crew already knew what she was capable of, they hadn't objected and welcomed her warmly, even though they didn't miss one opportunity to tease Krillin about it.
Bulma couldn't wait for the announcement that Krillin and Juuhachigou were together. Hopefully, it would finally put an end to the many rumors of them. Actually, she expected this announcement this Christmas, as Krillin had given her a hint that might indicate this, when she had met him two days ago. Her father had invited him and the rest of the crew for the Christmas Ball he planned to hold on Christmas Eve.
Personally, Bulma didn't look forward to the Ball. It was just another one of those formal gatherings that her mother was so fond of. She really hated those parties, as well as she couldn't stand most of the people her parents had invited. Most of them were snobs, just coming to the Ball to be seen and catch up on the newest gossip. It was disgusting, really. However, at least her friends were going to be there, so she hoped that it wouldn't be as dull as she expected it to become.
A loud wail from the room next door tore Bulma out of her thoughts and a small grin grazed her lips, as she rose from the chair she had curled up on and walked into the other room, shaking her head. Whoever said that this boy didn't act like his father was completely wrong. The appetite was definitely the same, as was the stubbornness, when he didn't get what he wanted.
"Don't tell me you're hungry, again," Bulma said to her son, who was staring at her with wide blue eyes, now that she was standing next to him. His tears had stopped and at the moment he appeared to be as innocent as an angel – but appearances were deceiving. She knew that, as soon as she just turned around and left him alone, he would begin to cry so loud that even the people in the other wing of the palace would hear it. At times like these, he definitely acted more like a devil than an angel, and Bulma already feared what would happen, when ChiChi's unborn baby and Trunks were both old enough to get into trouble together.
Bending down, Bulma picked the boy up and settled him in her arms so that it was comfortable for both of them. She held him with one arm and grabbed a candlestick in her other hand, before she left her room to go to the kitchens. It was already late and most of the staff was probably already in bed, but this didn't bother her. Bulma had insisted to take care of her boy without the help of nursemaids and this also meant heating the bottle for him and, now that he was already older, prepare his porridge. All ingredients could be found in the kitchens and she knew where she would find them. One day, Bulma had coaxed the cooks to let her try to cook something else than the simple porridge she could do by now, but quickly found out that this idea hadn't been that good. The result of this experiment had been inedible and Bulma had sworn at this moment that she would never try to cook a real meal again.
Almost one hour later, the small boy was once again lying in his crib, peacefully asleep, and Bulma smiled down at him. It was already past midnight and she had to stifle a loud yawn, careful that she wouldn't wake her son again, after he had just fallen asleep again. Maybe it was about time that she turned in as well.
With this thought in mind, Bulma returned to her own room and unfastened the robe, gently putting it over the back of a chair. She crawled under the covers of her bed and extinguished the flame of the candle next to her bed on the nightstand. Darkness fell over the room, as Bulma lay down and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she turned to her side and soon sleep came over her.
But as every night for the last one year, four months and nine days, her last thought before she allowed herself to fall asleep, was about Vegeta, wondering, where he was right now and if he was alright.
"Milord, y-you have a visitor," one of the servants announced the following morning, as he stopped in front of Lord Briefs, who was pondering some documents lying in front of him.
Raising his head, Lord Briefs eyed him with a questioning look on his face. "Who is it?"
"I- I don't know, sir," the servant admitted ruefully, lowering his gaze. "H-he didn't w-want to divulge his identity. B-but he claims that y-you know him."
Lord Briefs eyes became thoughtful, as he listened to the stutter of his servant. Who on earth could make him that nervous, or worse even, scare him so much that a man, who was usually full of confidence around him, turned into a stammering fool?
"Stop spluttering," a deep voice from behind the servant suddenly said. Lord Briefs' eyes widened considerably, as he recognized that voice. A hooded man stepped past the servant, who shrunk away, coming to a halt directly in front of the Lord's desk. "The Lord has already been expecting me, for quite some time, I expect."
"It is alright," Lord Briefs said, finally allowing a small smile on his face. Turning to the servant, he added, "You're dismissed. Please don't tell anyone of our visitor."
"Y-Yes, milord." The servant bowed and left the office, closing the door behind him to give the two men some privacy.
A few seconds passed, during which none of the two men said anything. Each was regarding the other with a somewhat wary look, though Lord Briefs looked more pleased than anything else and showed just the tiniest smugness. So he had been right to trust the promise the man in front of him had given him almost one and a half years ago. "I'm glad to see that you returned."
Finally the hood fell, revealing the face and the untamed dark hair of the Prince of the Saiyajins. His face was schooled into an indifferent mask, as he simply crossed his arms over his chest and said, "I've never been one to break promises. And I won't start now."
The smile on the Lord's face grew even wider, as he heard this and motioned for Vegeta to sit down in one of two armchairs standing around a small table in the corner of his office, while he was getting two glasses and a bottle of cognac out of the cabinet behind his desk. He put both glasses on the table and filled them with the brown golden liquid, before he sat down in the other armchair. After having taken a sip, Lord Briefs eventually turned back to the former pirate. "I see. Despite what people may think, I now believe Goku's words. It appears as if you can truly be a good man. However, you know that the promise you gave me before you left didn't just comprise your return once you attained your goal. I trust you did find what you were looking for…"
"Yes," Vegeta answered curtly. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here."
"That's good news, I suppose. But still, I hope you do remember your promise, Prince Vegeta."
A flicker of surprise could be seen on the Saiyajin's face, as the Lord addressed him as Prince. All the years, the usage of this word had been mocking, but the old man in front of him said it with respect. It was… unnerving, somehow. However, Vegeta quickly shook it off and snorted, "Of course…"
"Bulma and Trunks will be happy to hear that."
"T-Trunks?" he sputtered unexpectedly.
"Yes, Trunks," the Lord said, grinning mischievously. "Your son."
For a split second, there was a look of disgust on his face, as he muttered, "Trunks… What kind of name is Trunks?" But still, he had a son, and somehow this thought caused a strange tightening in his chest.
"It's the name Bulma chose for your son. I believe you've got to live with it. But, if it appeases you, the boy's second name is Vegeta." The Lord was still grinning widely. He just shrugged and simply continued, "Whatever. Now, Bulma doesn't know of your promise, as, and I have to be completely honest with you, I had doubted that you would ever return, and I didn't want to get her hopes up. But I think, I already have an idea how to surprise my dear daughter. You'd only have to be patient for a few more days until you see her and your son. May I ask, where you are staying for the time being?"
"The Dai Kaiou's," the Saiyajin answered, glowering at the mysterious twinkle in the older man's eyes. The Lord was planning something and Vegeta wasn't sure, if he'd like it.
Nodding, the Lord took another sip from the cognac. "It's a good choice, mostly to keep your identity a secret, at least until we divulge it. It wouldn't do you, or anyone else for that matter, any good, if someone recognized you before."
"Before what, exactly?" Vegeta inquired.
"I'm going to tell you in a few minutes, after we have addressed some other, also pressing matters. But," he suddenly said, as he noticed that the former pirate still hadn't touched his drink, "you should first try the cognac. It's very good."
"Come on, Bulma," ChiChi pressed her, sounding clearly annoyed. "The Ball is going to begin in less than half an hour and you haven't even started to get ready!" The black haired woman was wearing a dark blue gown, which clearly showed the large swelling of her stomach, and her hair was pulled up into a tight bun. With her hands stemmed into her hips, she was impatiently tapping with her foot, while she was standing in front of a screen, behind which she had shoved Bulma just a minute ago to change into her gown for the Christmas Ball.
ChiChi could hear an exasperated sigh from behind the screen and only silently shook her head. There was more rustling, a curse or two, which would even make a sailor blush, until Bulma stepped forward from behind the screen with her arms crossed and a deep scowl on her face. Her gown was of a deep red color, which nicely complimented her pale skin, and her long blue hair was pinned up on her head with only a few curls escaping the pins. "I hate this," she mumbled disdainfully.
Her friend gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know. But seeing as your parents host this Ball, you have no other choice but to attend. And, who knows, maybe you will meet a nice young man."
"That's exactly what I'm worried about," Bulma said with a sigh. She uncrossed her arms and began to tug at the long sleeves of her gown. "The last time my mother chose my dress for a Ball, she had wanted to set me up."
"You can't blame her," ChiChi argued gently. "It's been how long now? One and a half years?"
"One year, four months and thirteen days," the other woman corrected absently, looking at her reflection in a mirror. Bulma had to admit that she looked gorgeous in this gown. Her pregnancy hadn't done anything to destroy her slim figure; if anything, having been pregnant had given her a few soft curves that had been missing before.
ChiChi walked over to her friend and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "That's an awfully long time. I know you still love him, Bulma, but maybe you should try to learn to love another man. Trunks needs a father. Do you really believe that Vegeta will come back to you?"
"I do," Bulma said with more conviction than she actually felt. The last few days, she had thought often about it. ChiChi was right. It was an incredibly long time. What if Vegeta really didn't come back? What if this kiss on the docks had been a final goodbye? She needed to think of Trunks. He was still a baby, but soon he would be older and Bulma had seen how difficult it had been for ChiChi to raise a son all on her own. Maybe, maybe she should take her friend's words to heart and let go of Vegeta.
A silent sigh escaped Bulma's lips, as she was forced to listen to the incessant self-praise of the man sitting across from her at the dinner table. Hercule Satan, self-proclaimed defeater of the Jinzoningen Cell and Frieza, had moved to the Western Capitol a few months ago along with his daughter and, as everyone believed his stories about his victory over the Jinzoningen and the vicious Beast, he was held in high regards. Bulma believed that she was going to be sick, if she had to listen to him any longer.
It's all your fault, Goku, she thought, directing a glare at her best male friend, who was sitting a few seats down at the long table, chatting amiably with Krillin, whose company for this night was no other than Juuhachigou.
Hopefully her father would soon announce the end of the dinner so that everyone could move into the ballroom for the next part of the Christmas Ball. Maybe she could then finally escape the clutches of Satan himself. Bulma almost snorted at that thought, quickly covering her mouth with her hands and faking a cough. She caught a few worried glances from the people around her, but it didn't bother her. The worst thing still was that her conversational partner hadn't noticed a thing and was still relaying his admirable fight against Frieza in great detail. It was surprising, really, how much one could twist the truth and that people still believed it.
Finally dinner had come to an end and everyone was rising from their chairs. Bulma just wanted to disappear in the crowds, as she felt a soft tug at her arm. She had to suppress a groan, when she noticed that she hadn't escaped Satan's clutches after all. "May I have the first dance, Milady?"
Forcing a somewhat pleasant smile on her face, Bulma nodded in agreement, not trusting her voice to keep all the hostility back she felt for this man. Putting her hand on his, she once again threw an angry look towards an oblivious Son Goku.
It truly was a nightmare. Alright, this man knew how to dance – certainly much better than he knew how to fight – but couldn't he just shut up for one minute? Bulma looked around, desperate to catch the eyes of one of her friends and call for help. However, they all seemed to have disappeared. Satan wouldn't even let her go, when the orchestra took a break and she couldn't even say anything insulting because of her parents. It was most frustrating.
Half of the night had already passed, when Bulma eventually saw Yamcha standing near the windows. Praying that he would notice her dilemma and come to rescue her, she didn't once remove her eyes from him and just the tiniest smile fluttered over her lips, as the sailor finally looked up and directly at her. She gave him a helpless look. Fortunately, Yamcha seemed to understand her cry for help and as soon as the orchestra stopped playing, he walked over to them.
"Excuse me, sir," he said with a polite smile. "May I have the following dance with this charming lady?" As it appeared as if Satan wanted to object, Yamcha simply said, "I insist", and already took Bulma's hand, leading her away from him.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Bulma let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank you, Yamcha! I don't know, what I would have done without you."
A small chuckle escaped Yamcha's lips, as the orchestra began to play again and they started to dance. "You'd probably be bored to death by the end of the night."
"Not probably," Bulma contradicted with a scowl. "Most certainly. I can't believe that he is even trying to—"
"To… what?"
"To— to…" A shudder went down Bulma's spine, as she thought about this. "To court me."
"Well, Bulma, to be completely honest, I can't blame him." Bulma raised an eyebrow at the blush on Yamcha's cheeks. "Of all the women in this ballroom tonight, you're without doubt the most beautiful one. Even though it is common knowledge that you're the mother of a pirate's child, many men would still give everything to be with you. Even me…"
"Yamcha…"
"No, Bulma," Yamcha gently cut her off, shaking his head. "It's almost been one and a half years since he left. Face it, he won't come back. I know it's difficult to let go of someone you love. I know that it is almost impossible, but you have to. You can't just wait for him forever, in vain. Bulma, I know that before, before you met him, you felt something for me. You know that I still like you, very much in fact. I'd almost say I still love you. So, if you'd give me just the smallest chance, I'd…"
A soft smile lit up her face, as she slowly raised her hand to gently stroke over his cheek. "Yamcha, I—"
But whatever she wanted to say, the sailor would never know, because at this moment, the orchestra stopped playing and Lord Briefs had climbed the few steps to the entrance of the ballroom and loudly cleared his throat. Every head turned to him and the whole ballroom had fallen silent. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I believe the time is now right to present a special guest tonight. I'd like to introduce my daughter's fiancé – Prince Vegeta of the Saiyajins."
The large doors to the ballroom were opened and a man clad in a dark blue uniform and red cloak, which was fastened on his shoulders, stepped inside. Immediately murmurs broke out among the guests; just a handful were completely silent.
An incredibly pale looking Bulma was one of them.
Her heart was beating hard against her chest and she felt a tight knot in her stomach. She knew that, if she didn't start breathing again soon, she would most likely faint on the spot, but somehow this knowledge was buried somewhere in the far back of her mind.
She couldn't believe this! Was this just a dream? Yes, it had to be a dream. Only in her dreams something like this could happen. It was simply too good to be true. Vegeta wasn't really back. He was just a figment of her imagination. As was her father saying that Vegeta was her fiancé.
"Did you know of this?" a strangled sounding voice next to her asked, tearing her out of her numbness.
Or maybe it wasn't? Everything seemed so real.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it softly. Bulma looked up to meet the compassionate eyes of Goku. They showed her that he was also surprised, so he hadn't known of this. "Is this a dream?" she asked, still a bit dazed.
"No, it isn't, Bulma." Goku grinned down at her, thinking that this stunned look on her face was truly priceless. But maybe there was similar look on his face. Of course, he had known that Vegeta would be back someday, but trust the Prince – or would that be, trust Lord Briefs? – to make an entrance like this. "You should go up to him."
"But Goku," Yamcha objected, ready to follow Bulma, however Goku's hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"No, Yamcha," Goku interrupted him with a sympathetic smile directed at his friend. "It is time for you to let her go. Try to be happy for her."
Yamcha looked after Bulma with longing in his eyes, watching the reunion between the two lovers, but eventually shook his head. Maybe Goku was right. Maybe he should heed his own words and finally let her go.
"Come on." Goku squeezed his shoulder, as he led him from the dancefloor, when the music again began to play. "Let's have something to drink."
-
Bulma felt all eyes on her, as she hesitatingly crossed the ballroom and climbed the stairs until she was standing directly in front of Vegeta. She wished she knew what to say, but her mind was blank. It still appeared to be so surreal.
One year, four months and thirteen days.
He hadn't changed at all, at least not in appearance. Still the same sharp lines of his face, the same wild black hair and still the same intense dark eyes. Yet, there was something different about the way he held himself. He seemed to be calmer, almost as if he had found some inner peace. It brought a small smile to her lips. Had he found what he had been looking for?
Slowly raising her hand, she stifled a sob, when it connected with his hard chest. Unlike all the other times in her dreams, he didn't disappear this time. Her eyes met his, as she finally mumbled, "You're back."
"I'm back," Vegeta confirmed. When he had first laid his eyes on her after not having seen her for such a long time, he had swallowed hard. The woman was still gorgeous, if not even more gorgeous than before and he had felt something stir inside of him. The burning desire to hold her, touch her, to kiss her. He finally knew the reason why he had come back. This woman had done something to him. And now, her touch sent a jolt through his body, a sudden heat, which threatened to overwhelm him. It took all of his self-control to keep his hands to himself.
Suddenly, the orchestra began to play a slow waltz. The attention was drawn from them, as the other guests returned to their dancing. Bulma's heart began to beat even faster, when Vegeta took her hand and led her down the steps on the dance floor. She felt as if she were floating, when they began to move in the rhythm of the piece of music.
This was, what she had dreamt of all her life, ever since she was a little girl. To dance with the Prince of her dreams. Suddenly, one thought tore her out of her dreamlike state. "You know how to dance?"
Vegeta snorted, before he just replied, "I'm a Prince, woman."
"As if that explains everything." She grinned up at him and no matter how deep the scowl on his face was, she could see the slight amused twinkle in his eyes. They might have been separated for almost one and a half years, but apparently nothing had changed between them.
But still, silence fell between them. There were so many things that she wanted to say, so many things that she wanted to ask, but it was still simply too overwhelming. Vegeta was back. Vegeta was back and he was dancing with her… This had to be the happiest day of her life. Seeing her parents dancing past her, she gave them a bright and grateful smile.
"It was your father's idea," Vegeta suddenly said. "He thought it might be best to surprise you."
"That's just like him," Bulma said, still smiling brightly. Then, all of sudden, all the questions that had been bubbling close to the surface, wanted to break out. "How long have you been back already? Where have you been? Have you found the key to the Legendary? Why did my father introduce you as my fiancé?"
There were so many more things that she so desperately wanted to ask, but Vegeta silenced her with a shake of his head. "A few days. Everywhere. Yes." As he said this, Bulma noticed the triumphant glint in his otherwise protected eyes and the tug of a smirk at his lips. "And to answer your last question - before I was allowed to leave the Western Capitol, your father made me promise to return and to take you as my wife."
Bulma stopped abruptly, asking, "My father did… how could he?" She wanted to tear her hand out of his, ready to stomp over to her father and demand an explanation for his actions. How dare he to just issue Vegeta this ultimatum! That was blackmail! Marry my daughter or you won't be allowed to leave! This was simply… Bulma couldn't even find the right words for the feelings that were raging through her body. There was a dark scowl on her face, as Vegeta didn't want to let her go. Instead he pulled her closer, earning many scandalous looks from passing couples, so that their bodies touched, and started again to dance.
"Woman," he growled deep in his throat. "Did you honestly think that I would've agreed to this if I didn't want it?"
"Y-you want it?" she stuttered, completely astonished, all anger immediately forgotten. The only answer she got was a low guttural sound, but it was all the confirmation she needed. He was right. His pride was simply too strong. Vegeta would never do something against his will.
Not caring anymore what people might think of her, she grabbed his head and pulled him down into a deep and ravenous kiss. She didn't need him to talk, to say what he was feeling for her, because as long as he put his emotions into their kisses like that, she would always be sure of one thing.
No matter how rough Vegeta wanted to appear, she knew that even if he might not know what love was, he at least cared for her.
"He doesn't look like a Saiyajin," Vegeta remarked gruffly, as he looked at the small baby boy in Bulma's arms.
It was the following day that Vegeta finally got to see his son. He had spent the night in one of the guest suites at the palace, without Bulma of course, seeing as they weren't married yet. Bulma had gotten him for breakfast just a few minutes ago with Trunks comfortably settled in her arms and this was the first thing that Vegeta had noticed about the boy.
"He might not look like one," Bulma replied, not at all bothered by his reaction. Knowing him, she had already expected as much. "But he definitely acts like one, now don't you, my little prince?"
Vegeta rolled his eyes in annoyance, when he heard her baby-voice directed at his heir. If he ever wanted his son to at least behave like a member of his proud race, the woman had to stop coddling him, but somehow he couldn't find the courage to tell the woman even this. He snorted, which earned him a strange look from Bulma. What had become of him? This was pathetic! He was already becoming soft, almost fearing the woman. No, not the woman, he decided quickly. The only thing he feared was her shrill voice, which would surely cost him his eardrums, if he wasn't careful.
"Do you want to hold him?"
This question caught him completely off guard and he stopped dead in his tracks, giving the woman an incredulous frown. "Why would I want to hold him?"
Now Bulma was glaring at him and Vegeta winced inwardly, as he knew that he probably shouldn't have said this. Pathetic, indeed. "Because you're his father, Vegeta," she simply said.
"Whatever," he only replied, brushing past her. He knew that the woman was still glaring at him, almost burning a hole into his back as if telling him that this discussion wasn't over yet. Oh, he was sure that it wasn't over yet. He only hoped that they would continue this discussion in the privacy of either his or her chambers, or in the future, in their chambers, so that they could at least make up properly.
They reached the dining, or in this case, breakfast room within a few minutes and Bulma opened the large door to reveal a long table, at which not only her parents but much to her surprise also Goku, ChiChi and Bardock were sitting. All of them rose from their chairs, though ChiChi did this with some difficulty, when they stepped inside.
"Ah, Bulma, Vegeta," Lord Briefs greeted them. "There you are. Come in, come in. Breakfast will be served shortly. I hope you don't mind that I invited some guests."
"Of course not, father," Bulma answered, smiling brightly at her friends. "It's great to have some more company. Good morning and merry Christmas!"
The others returned her greeting and Bulma suddenly noticed Goku's and Bardock's gazes resting on the person directly behind her. They had only seen each other at distance the night before and not gotten the chance to talk. Somehow, Bulma feared the reaction of her friends to Vegeta's return. While she had not once doubted that Bardock would welcome him back warmly, she hadn't been so sure about Goku, or the rest of her friends for that matter. However, at least part of her fears fled, when she saw the expression on Goku's face – one could almost go as far as saying that the younger Saiyajin was happy to see the Prince.
"My Prince," Bardock eventually said with a smile on his face, breaking the somewhat awkward silence between them. "It's good to see that you've returned. I assume this means that you've been successful on your quest?"
"Your assumption is correct, Bardock," Vegeta replied, not missing the excited glint in the younger Saiyajin's eyes at this news. Turning towards him, Vegeta inclined his head and as their eyes met, they came to a silent understanding. As soon as they found the time, they would test each other's full strength in a sparring match. Vegeta was already looking forward to it. "Kakarotto."
"Vegeta," Goku said, already feeling the excitement flowing through him. Finally someone who could match his strength and was actually allowed to fight him. While Gohan's strength rivaled his, the boy was still missing the experience and ChiChi didn't like it when Gohan fought. She still wanted him to become a scholar and her determination never wavered. Somehow, Goku would have to convince her that training to get better and to harness the power of the Legendary and develop it further was just as important as studying.
"Well then, why don't you all sit down and enjoy our breakfast?" Lord Briefs suggested, as the door was opened again and the servants brought in the food.
During breakfast they talked about a lot of things. Bardock inquired about what Vegeta would do, now that he was back. It was then that Vegeta told him that he would be working at the palace, as one of Lord Brief's chief advisors. The Lord had offered him this position, because Vegeta might look at some things differently than his regular advisors and might therefore be of great assistance. Vegeta had taken him up on his offer, because honestly he didn't know what else he should do. The Lord wouldn't let him go to sea and besides, the position as advisor might help him to prepare for the time, when Lord Briefs was dead and Bulma, as his heiress, would take over his position.
Lord Briefs also finally announced the date for the wedding of Bulma and Vegeta, which would now take place in the first week of January. Even though Bulma had always dreamed of a wedding in July, she knew that they couldn't wait that long. Now that Vegeta, the father of her son, was back, people would expect them marry as soon as possible. Their position in this city was simply too high to cause any more rumors. It was already bad enough to have an illegitimate child, so living with a man without being married for a longer period of time was even worse for a woman of her station. Actually, what other people said didn't matter to Bulma, but she owed this to her parents, especially her father, after everything he had done for her happiness.
"I hope it will be a small wedding," Bulma suddenly said, with a side-glance at Vegeta, who was now again looking mildly interested. "I don't wish for many people to attend. Only family and close friends, if it is possible."
"But Bulma, dear," her mother contradicted. "We've got so many obligations! And haven't you always dreamed of a large wedding?"
"Things change, mom," Bulma mumbled exasperated, not noticing that she had slipped back into the informal speech she usually only used, when she was alone with her parents. "I have changed."
"But darling, what about the other people…"
"I don't care about them, mom. Let them talk. Let them gossip. At least this will give them something to do." Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared defiantly at her parents, daring them to say something.
"Well," ChiChi suddenly spoke up. "I believe a small wedding is a wonderful idea. It's a lot more personal and romantic. I should know this, seeing as our wedding was also a small one." Her eyes met Bulma's and the older woman mouthed a quiet Thank you.
Lord Briefs heaved a heavy sigh, as he finally relented. "Alright, Bulma. It will be a small wedding."
Bulma gave him a very grateful smile, resisting the urge to jump up and embrace both of her parents. Instead she only said, "Thank you, dad, mom. This really means much to me, and to Vegeta."
Suddenly, Goku began to grin. "Hey, but if you marry next year, it will mean that there will be two weddings in one year."
"What do you mean, Goku?" Bulma asked, just slightly confused, as she already had a fairly good idea what, or rather, whom he was talking about.
"Well," he grinned at her. "While you and Vegeta have been god knows where last night," A small blush crept onto Bulma's face, as she recalled what she and Vegeta had been doing during that time, "Krillin and Juuhachigou told us that they would marry in the following summer."
-
As soon as breakfast was finished and Lord Briefs had thanked them all for coming, Vegeta immediately rose from his chair and fixed Goku with a challenging look. Son Goku nodded at him and allowed the tiniest smirk on his lips, as he pushed his chair back and got up as well. "Excuse me, please. ChiChi, do you mind spending the afternoon with Bulma? I really would like to show Vegeta the training rooms at the academy. Father, do you want to come along?"
"Of course, Goku," Bardock replied. He thanked Lord Briefs and his wife for the wonderful breakfast, before he followed the other two Saiyajins.
"Men," ChiChi only muttered under her breath, when the men were gone, shaking her head at the fact that Goku hadn't even waited for her answer.
"No," Bulma corrected with a grin. "Saiyajins."
"I'll catch you, Trunks!" a young boy with wild black hair called, as he raced his friend across the yard behind his parents' house.
It was a beautiful summer's day, seven years after the events that had changed the lives of a group of friends forever had taken place. Just as every year, Son ChiChi believed it necessary to invite all of their friends and family to their house for a large picnic. And just as every year, everyone had turned up.
"You'll never catch me!" Trunks called back, looking over his shoulder.
However, at this moment he didn't see the dark haired youth crossing his path and ran straight into him, knocking both of them and a bowl that the youth was carrying to the ground. The youth groaned and just wanted to get up, as he felt another weight almost crushing him. "Trunks, Goten, get off me. And you, Dende, shut up," he grumbled, as the green skinned youth standing next to him began to chuckle.
"Sorry brother," the black haired boy quickly mumbled, immediately scrambling off him, followed by his friend.
"Sorry Gohan," Trunks also said, though he didn't look nearly as rueful as his friend. Gohan shook his head, as he got again to his feet.
"Goten! Trunks! What have you done?" a shrill voice suddenly shrieked. All three boys winced, resisting the urge to cover their ears. The youngest two looked up and swallowed hard, when they saw the pudding that was now spread all over the grass. They exchanged a quick look and were off again, fleeing from a mother's wrath.
"Mom," Gohan tried to calm her, as ChiChi was about to run after the two boys. "It's not that bad. It was just one pudding. The bowl isn't even broken."
ChiChi looked at her almost thirteen years old son. He was already as tall as her and she knew that he hid his already due to his regular training – she still didn't know how Goku had managed to get her to agree to this – muscular body underneath his loose clothes. His wild black hair went down to his shoulders, but he usually had it tied back, just like today. He truly was growing up to be a handsome young man and ChiChi was already looking forward to meeting girls that he might want to court.
"ChiChi!" a voice suddenly exclaimed. The woman looked around and saw Bulma walking up to her. "What happened here?"
"Your son ran into Gohan, while he had been bringing me the pudding, followed by my careless other son. I swear, those two devils are just like their fathers. Where are they by the way? I haven't seen them at all since lunch."
"Probably sparring somewhere, and as I know Bardock, he has gone with them to watch," Bulma answered shrugging. "Whatever, as soon as they smell food, I'm sure they'll come back. Come on, I'll help you get the rest. Maybe Gohan and Dende could go looking for the others and tell them that, if they don't come soon, there'll be no cake left for them."
ChiChi nodded, allowing a small grin on her lips. "Alright. Gohan, would you please…?"
"Of course, mom," Gohan answered grinning. "Are you coming, Dende?"
"Nah," his childhood friend declined with a slight shake of his head. "You go alone. I better help your mother."
Shrugging, Gohan only said, "Alright, save me a seat!", and immediately took off into the direction, where he believed his father and grandfather to be, not noticing that his mother was once again shaking her head behind his back.
It took him only a few minutes to arrive at the meadow that his father had claimed to be perfect for training. Once he was there he saw that not only his grandfather Bardock was watching the two other Saiyajins fight, but also Trunks and Goten cheering on their fathers. Gohan shielded his eyes against the sun, as he joined them. Both fighters were in the level of the Legendary and Gohan felt the itching in his fingers to join them, but he knew that his mother would most likely kill him, if he got into a fight now.
"Hey Gohan, what brings you here?" Bardock asked grinning, already excepting the answer.
"Mom," he only answered, as if this word explained it all, and then whistled on his fingers to get the attention of his father and Vegeta.
Both fighters noticed the youth and paused. "Hey son," Goku called. "Do you want to join us?"
Gohan only shook his head. "I can't. Mom told me to get you, if you want to have any cake."
Goku and Vegeta both looked at each other, as if contemplating what would be more important now. To eat or to finish this match. In the end, both simultaneously dropped out of the level of the Legendary. "We're going to finish this later, Kakarotto, and then I'm finally going to beat you," Vegeta said.
"We're going to see, just who's going to beat who."
"Come on, dad," Goten yelled. "I'm hungry."
"Alright." Walking up to him, Goku lifted him up and sat him down on his shoulders.
"Baby," Trunks teased him, but Goten only stuck his tongue out at him.
The group of five Saiyajins arrived a short time later at the long table in the backyard of Son Goku's house, where the rest of their friends and family were already sitting, obviously only waiting for them to turn up. The table was filled with all kinds of cake, different puddings and fruits to feed at least an army, or a couple of Humans and five Saiyajins.
Goku sat down next to his wife, putting Goten down between him and Gohan, for whom Dende had saved a seat, while Vegeta and Trunks sat down across from them next to Bulma and Bardock. As soon as everyone had settled down and was ready to fill their plates, General Kaiou, who was sitting at the far end of the table along with Muten Roshi and Gyuu Mao, got up and cleared his throat. Immediately all eyes were resting on him and everyone was quiet, except for the blond toddler in Juuhachigou's arms, her and Krillin's daughter Marron, who let out a high-pitched squeal.
"My dear friends," he began with a smile on his face, looking around.
Truly everyone was there. The whole Son family, Lady Bulma and Vegeta with their son, Krillin and Juuhachigou with their daughter, Muten Roshi, Yamcha, Tenshinhan and Chao-Zu, Piccolo and even Dende had followed ChiChi's invitation. After everything that had happened, even after some of them went their own way, this tight-knitted group showed what exactly friendship truly was.
"I'm glad to see you all here today, even though it wasn't me who invited you, but Goku's wonderful wife ChiChi. Because of this, I hope you don't mind that I want to say a few words. Last night, as I was sitting in my parlor with a glass of whiskey, I've been thinking of the past. Seven years ago, most of our lives took an unexpected turn. We never asked for the Saiyajins to appear and to take one of the spheres and to kidnap Lady Bulma. We never asked for secrets to be revealed the way it happened. And we also never asked for the scars that had been inflicted.
"But even though we've been hurt, betrayed and lost, we also gained something. Love," Kaiou said, inclining his head to Goku, Bulma and Krillin, "unexpected allies," he nodded at Vegeta and Juuhachigou, "even family." This time he looked at Gohan and Bardock. "But most importantly friends." He first looked at Dende and then around the whole group. "New friendships have been gained, old friendships strengthened. Without friendship, you would have never gotten as far as you have. Friendship has given you strength, strength to overcome seemingly impossible obstacles, strength to overcome your own limits and strength to go on, when you believed that everything was lost. Because of this, I now raise my glass to friendship. May your friendship always exist and help you in hard times."
Son Goku rose from his chair and raised his glass, watching smiling, as his friends and family followed suit, holding their glasses high. Even Vegeta raised his glass, though he only met the younger Saiyajin's eyes, as Goku and the others spoke two words.
"To Friendship."
THE END
2nd A/N: So, there they are, the two words. I hope you also liked the epilogue of this story and that all of your questions are answered. Believe me, it has been incredible hard to write it. First I wanted to remain under five pages – how many do I have now? A bit more than twelve. I think there are so many more things that I could have put into this chapter, but it is an epilogue for Dende's sake and epilogues are meant to be short, I believe.
Whatever, once again thank you all for reading this! You guys helped me going on and bringing this story to an end. THANK YOU! (Still, one last review would be highly appreciated GRINS)
I wish all of you a happy new year 2006! Maybe we see each other again in one of my other stories or, if (when) I'll post the sequel to this story. I have a rough and rather vague outline (at least of the beginning) in my head, but I have no idea when the sequel will be posted.
And again, thank you! I bow before you!
Eternally yours
ChibiChibi