Chapter Text
Bulma glared up at the King defiantly, when the Queensguard deposited her in front of the raised dais. Upon which stood the Saiyan seat of power in the vast, domed throne room. These last few weeks, she had suffered through every slight and reminder that she was not enough. She had been kidnapped, taken to a strange world, shown only the merest of courtesies and insulted at every opportunity. And through it all, this brute had stood aside, watching her like some reptile on a rock. With curiosity, bewilderment, but mostly an alien disregard to her well being and safety.
His Queen, initially cold towards her, had been won over by sheer gall on Bulma’s part. Pitting her genius against Saiyan strength, outsmarting her attendants when they foolishly underestimated her. Still, she was more amusement to the other woman, a brief glimmer of entertainment until she grew bored. At least the Queen had bothered to clothe her when her Earth clothes showed signs of wear. Simple, unflattering, unitard and combat vest were all that could be spared - or perhaps all the handmaids were willing to give up themselves.
Bulma had met the Queen’s challenges head on - Saiyan’s were physical beings, so when you stood one up against a sizeable intellect and quick of foot Earthling like herself, things got unexpected. The element of surprise had saved her probably more often than she cared to admit in the last weeks alone and it was the sole reason she had convinced the Queen she was not the sum of her insignificant power level.
King Vegeta looked down at her disdainfully and would have spoken in his booming voice had the large, heavy windows not chosen that moment to quiver loudly in their fixings. The ground beneath them rumbled ominously, and Bulma took an involuntary step back into the waiting attendants who firmly gripped her shoulders. She frowned when his face paled and instead of addressing her directly, demanded, “What- what is that?” His voice trembled with an odd note.
Then she felt it, and despite not being able to sense Ki herself, recognised beyond a shadow of a doubt, the familiar silent thunderclap in her chest followed swiftly by a growling boom of power entering the atmosphere far above the palace. Her eyes widened, surprise, relief and excitement warring for the forefront position in her mind. She grinned triumphantly as her heart somersaulted in her chest, and stepped forward, claiming back the space she had surrendered initially, meeting the King’s wide stare.
“That,” She began, gaze hard and unforgiving on her captor, “is my husband. Your son. And if you don’t want this castle levelled to the ground when he arrives, I suggest you let me go meet him, to prove I’m unharmed. He can be a little... protective.” She didn’t wait for an answer, turning she strode forward with all the confidence and attitude that had been stolen from her since arriving on planet Vegeta.