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Vegebul angst:

It was that look of his that had her frowning. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He looked like the lonesome prince he was. There was no trace of his usual arrogance and abrasive personality. It was just him. Stripped bare as rare, heartbreaking tears managed to stream down his cheeks.

That look of his had her wanting to pull him into her arms. She wanted to reassure him that not all was lost, that he still had her and their son, and that even their friends were still with them, but she was prideful as well. Many fights had come from their clashing personalities, but none so heartbreaking than the one they were in now. She had long ago decided to forgive him for his actions while possessed by the dead sorcerer, but she found it was easier said than done.

Try as she might, she was never able to understand why the possession happened. Her childhood friend had told her it was a lost battle, and then warned her that her husband was definitely a victim, but his actions under that 'M' on his forehead were far too familiar. It was him, back in his prime, back when they first met. The merciless conquerer that never hesitated to have it reason blood. The insatiable warrior with a thirst to prove his strength. The offended prince that had to put a stray "low rank warrior" in his place. Her husband had gone back to his days as a monster, and she found it hard to believe that there was not some part of him that was happy about it. Glad to have found his heritage again, which he had complained was erased due to his prolonged exposure to humans. To her.

She had changed him. She knew she had. The main reason she even dared to invite the genocidal prince to live in her home was due to her confidence in being able to change him, but she failed to keep in mind what that would do to him. She imagined that losing yourself, even to love, was terrifying when you were the sole survivor of your race.

Sure, he had a brother and hey childhood friend had been uncovered to be like her husband, but neither of them had grown up in the same conditions. She had no way of knowing what her husband's brother had gone through, but she knew her childhood friend, at least, had grown up like a human. Perhaps the other prince had grown up to be like the inhabitants of the planet he was sent to. Perhaps he was a kind man. A stark contrast to her husband.

Her thoughts stopped as she found herself caught. Her husband wide-eyed as he noticed that someone had witnessed his vulnerable side. It was strange to see him line a deer in headlights. Much more akin to those he used to hunt rather than the hunter get used to be. She wished to believe only she had that effect on him. Who else did he tolerate, after all? No one. Just her, and was that not just the damnedest thing? He was all alone again, because she found it hard to believe he was a victim.

The prince resumed his stride. Briskly moving past her. Careful not to touch. She found it ironic. She was the one who was angry, betrayed, and confused, but it was he who kept away. He never dared to approach her after he was freed from the sorcerer's control. Perhaps if he had not taken such drastic measures to kill the creature he helped free, perhaps then he might have had more courage to face her. To talk about what he experienced, but he had. He had gone as far as erasing his own existence in a brilliant light in order to right his mistakes, and he had failed. Brought back only because of a miracle secret only to them. Them and their friends, and now a few more enemies as well. A miracle she found herself habitually collecting after having to revive her first dead friends.

Her husband was a victim. The prideful, arrogant man that knew he belonged in a throne, now a helpless victim. It was such a fall from grace. She wondered if it was denial, then, that kept her from believing the truth. Her husband was a strong man, after all. Along with her childhood friend, the man had saved her home countless times. Had professed his adoration for her a million times more behind closed doors. A secret veneration he refused to share with anyone else. She was his, and he was hers, and he would be damned if he allowed anyone else into what they had.

So, it was painful to think of such a man as a victim. Her pillar, her protection, her love. She had dreamt of a prince of her own as a child, but she had never been prepared for what that entailed. She figured a prince would let her live a pampered life where she never had to lift a finger. Surrounded by luxuries and all the strawberries she could ever wish for, but she was wrong. Her price came with no throne, and his cape was red not because of expensive silk, but because of endless bloodshed, and he was always close to leaving her. She had to work hard to keep up with him. Invent new gadgets that would help them win the day, but in the end he still left her side. Was that it, then? Was she angry at herself for failing to protect him?

No, how could she expect to do so? She was only human. Not some warrior alien race genetically coded for war. Even so, she was a fighter. Not like he was, but she knew even hell would be unable to separate them if she so desired. They had survived so much together, after all, and she had put in quite the amount of effort to keep up.

She knew what she had to do next.

The bedroom door creaked as she poked her head in. Not surprised to find it empty. No matter. What she had planned required a bit of alone time. Though, she still glanced down out the window. Watching the empty space that once held the unstable training room her husband had repeatedly collapsed onto himself. She remembered how terrified she had been the first time. How her desperation to prove he was still with her led them down an irreversible path. How it had sparked their dependence on each other, and later on their love.

She sighed as she finished preparing herself to talk with him. His lack of communication skills was something she was already accustomed to thanks to her childhood friend. Still, it never hurt to take extra precautions with her husband since all their arguments escalated to shouting matches. She took in a breath of courage and made her way to the much more stable gravity room.

As expected, the door was locked. Indicating that her husband was inside with the gravity set to a critical level. She chewed on her lip again. Should she just leave him be? In a honesty, she had no idea how to deal with the situation. He had to hate her, right? She had ignored him for so long. Ignored the hurt and guilt that plagued him. Had the roles been reversed, she would have left him. That depressing thought was enough to move her hand and press the intercom.

"Vegeta."

There was silence. She waited for a few minutes, but no response came. Resigned, she turned to leave. Only for the door to unlock. It never opened, but that was just like him. She found herself smiling softly as she walked in.

Standing a few feet in front of the door was her husband. Usually he would either stand with his arms crossed over his chest, annoyed she was interrupting his training, or he was quick to shut the door behind her. Hungry lips claiming hers as he all but devoured her whole. Neither of those reactions greeted her this time. Instead, he stood before her breathing heavy. Body exhausted no doubt by the intense workout he had just been torturing himself with. He was punishing himself again.

Before she could do anything about it, a single sound fell from his lips: "Bulma."

Her name. It sounded so delicate and fragile on his trembling voice, and yet it sounded like it was the one thing that was keeping him together.

Like a reenactment of their beginning, Bulma found herself running over to catch her prince. Cradling his head on her lap as his body gave into the gravity she knew was far too weak to truly keep him down. The only difference now being the soft sobs she had never heard before.

It was heartbreaking to see her love like this. A sobbing mess that clung to her like a child. Repeating apologies like a mantra. He was careful not to hurt her, but his grip on her hand was unbreakable. He wanted her with him. Wanted to make sure she stayed.

Bulma gave her husband a saddened smile. "I'm here, Vegeta."

And she was. For the first time since he released hell on Earth, she was there with him. Brushing his hair with her hands as she consoled him. Listening to his pain and loving him all the same.

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