Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dominion ❯ Chapter 15

Dominion

Author: Xero Sky

Date: July - November 2002

Pairings: Vejiita X Bardock, Vejiita X Kakkarot, Bardock + Turles.

Warnings: Lemon, lime, language, violence, and ANGST. AU, therefore some OOC is probably inevitable. References to consensual incest between adult siblings. References to rape.

Notes:

*....* indicates italics. /..../ indicates telepathic speech

Thanks to Legendary Chibi Vegeta for beta-reading and generally being a bad influence.

Disclaimer: All characters are property of their respective copyright owners. I intend no profit from this work of fiction.

Chapter 15

A simple sequence of events. A nexus of conflicting intentions and foreseen destinies. The energy expended, in emotion, ki, and sweat simply to reach the starting point was beyond the grasp of most sentient beings. It was a saiyajin dance, full of intricate movements and deadly potential. Every one of them felt the singing in his blood.

*******************

Turles saw Vejiita, aloft, standing above a planet he owned in every way. It must be good, he thought, to be a king, to rule an empire, to be secure in your place in the universe. To be unassailable in your feelings of righteousness.

But not actually unassailable. Oh no, not at all.

Time to teach the Saiyajin no Ou the first, harshest lesson the universe hands down to less exalted beings: everyone dies.

Turles closed his eyes for a moment and then let go of his controls, abandoning his defenses against himself. He embraced his past.

Blood splattered the wall. The female shrieked and clawed at the icejin guard, and was kicked in the face for it. Her body went skidding across the floor, blood trailing out behind. The icejin was lower-caste, weak and incapable of transforming, but it was stronger than the slaves locked in their ki-suppression collars. Among its own people, it wasn't even considering worthy of breeding, but here, in the slave pens, it might as well be a god. Or, rather, a lower-caste god, forbidden on pain of death to damage the goods. The gladiators were valued luxury items, status symbols, and they had to be kept healthy. A slave of Turles' quality was exempt from anything more than pain and humiliation, lest it damage his performance in the arena, or his sale price.

A saiyajin infant, however, had no worth that anyone could see. No one was going to invest the time and resources needed to rear it to fighting age. A newborn infant was, in short, fair game. For an icejin in authority over despised mammals, mammals valued much higher by their mutual owners than it was, the infant was a welcome diversion. It died quickly, there being little sport in something so fragile, but the death drove the female to insanity, and the guards descended on her gleefully. An 'escaping' slave was also fair game.

Turles had seen it before, had seen enough of it to know that there was no point in howling or tearing at the metal mesh that locked him into a different room. Once they were done with her, they would just turn on him, bruising, hurting, doing whatever sly damage they could without hurting his fighting performance. The suppression bands around his neck and at the base of his tail locked his ki away from him, and there was no way out, nothing he could do.

He saw his daughter's body on the filth of the floor, tiny, pudgy limbs splayed, the black tail still wet from birth.

The female shrieked. He didn't even know her name. It was better that way, not to know, since they would never be allowed anything more than the few heated moments they'd managed already. But they were killing her, as they had killed her child, his child. As they'd killed his crew, and every other thing he had been stupid enough to have feelings for.

For a moment he turned away, starting to push it down, as he had every other tragedy.

Then something in him gave, finally snapped under the pressure, and he started screaming. He screamed until his throat was raw and the blood sprayed, until the guards came to beat on the mesh, breaking his fingers as he clutched it. Screamed until the darkness around him had suddenly given way to light, until his rage had shrieked into incandescence.

Then the killing had begun.

It was almost a relief now to ascend. Vejiita turned towards him a moment before he transformed. He saw himself reflected in the king's eyes as Vejiita turned, a sudden sunrise across midnight skies. For a moment there was recognition there, even happiness, but then it fled as he realized he didn't know his attacker. That moment cost him everything.

Grinning, Turles saw the flickers of power begin around Vejiita as the king tried belatedly to power up, but it was altogether too late for that. With a blow that would have shattered mountains, Turles struck his sovereign down. Eyes of cold turquoise watched as Vejiita disappeared through the clouds to slam into the earth below.

Turles glowed in the night sky, his unruly hair gone blonde, his eyes faded to daylight, and a nimbus of power, crackling gold, surrounded him, lighting the clouds beneath him. For a moment, a pair of heartbeats, he seemed like a saiyajin god, a usurper god claiming his realm.

Everything was going exactly as he'd dreamed it for all those long years. The others were too far away to stop what they didn't understand anyway. When he was done, he would settle with his family. He would find his peace. Now he had only to finish off his target.

His moment of exultation cost him. The bellow of rage and horror from behind caught him almost completely by surprise, as did the fist that came crashing into his skull.

*******************

Kakkarot cried out as pain flared suddenly in his head. It was only a ghost of real pain, but it was intimate, as if he'd suddenly been wounded inside, and it was accompanied by an instinctive rush of his own fear bitter enough to take his breath away.

Gasping, he paused in his flight, his arms going around his middle as if they could heal the sudden hollowness inside him. He flailed in mid-air, looking for the enemy.

He was alone in the open sky, under the Fall of Souls. Clouds floated over and underneath him, tinted softly gold and red from the display above them all. Bitterly cold winds curled around him, threading through his hair and fur. He saw everything with a clarity usually reserved for battle, when the smallest details could be the difference between life and death. There seemed no sound save for his harsh breathing.

Maybe he'd…imagined it?

As if in patient answer to his stupidity, the feeling came again, this time striking his entire body, making him cry out with pain and fear. Pain he was well acquainted with. Fear he had come to know. Neither had been like this before. It made him feel like he was coming undone somehow.

A flicker of recognition shot through him.

Vejiita?

"Oh, Gods," he moaned softly. "Please, don't...."

Please don't let it be Vejiita. Please don't let me be feeling this. Please don't let him be hurt.

Some things, however, had at last become undeniable.

It was Vejiita. Something had happened to him, and Kakkarot could feel him, could feel the shadows of his pain. And there was only one way that could be.

Suddenly his defenses crumbled. Pride, arrogance, the need to fight - all these failed him. Just like that, his entire universe re-ordered itself. He was bound to his enemy. And thus Vejiita was no enemy. Vejiita was…his…

Something of what his father had said came back to him suddenly, like a kick to groin.

What if you're wasting it? What if something happens and you lose him?

That… That was NOT possible.

He felt a sickness inside, a feeling of damage, and then Vejiita's ki flickered and dipped low, and Kakkarot groaned, panic flaring up in his stomach.

Why do I care if he dies? he thought. Isn't this what I wanted? Isn't it what I'm doing out here?

The answer came despite his best efforts to block it out. It was all very simple, and it rolled over his hatred, his fear, and his hurt in one slow wave, engulfing them. He cared because Vejiita was essential to him now. Even hating him, everything Kakkarot had was focused on his mate.

Mate. The word was short and simple, a bitten-off gasp of air. Yet it meant everything. Everything.

He had to go. He couldn't bear to stay here and let anything happen to Vejiita, couldn't stand the pain or the fear of his loss. And why? That was simple too, wasn't it? He could dress it up in any way pride demanded, make a thousand claims that Vejiita was his to kill and no other's. The form didn't matter. It was a question of possession. Vejiita was his.

And he belonged to Vejiita.

A shudder racked his bones.

No more delusions, no more denials. It was there in front of him, proven by the pain he felt and his own instinctive reaction to it. Vejiita was his mate. His bond-mate. Despite everything that had happened, he couldn't deny the feeling in his gut, the feeling of connection, the terrifying, thrilling feeling of being bound to Vejiita. The need to submit to that feeling, to embrace that bond, burned and sucked at him, making him tremble as he crouched in mid-air.

One last step.

If Kakkarot was anything, if there was one constant about him, it was that he was a warrior. Fear would not keep him frozen, not when he had accepted the truth. The chasm was before him, and, growling, he paused no longer but threw himself into it. He accepted, in one long scary rush of emotion, the bond between himself and his mate, accepted whatever conditions came with it, whatever Vejiita wanted of him. He offered himself up in an act of blind trust, and he could feel the barriers ripping wide in his mind as he was joined, finally and unbreakably, to Vejiita. Vejiita. Saiyajin no Ou. His king, his lover. His mate.

One moment bled into the next, and Kakkarot stayed motionless amidst the dark and the cold winds. Dark hair hung in front of a pale face, obscuring it. Starlight shown on a body perfected by years of combat and exertion, sculpted by willpower and necessity. Powerful hands clenched and unclenched in time with a strong, slender tail that whipped back and forth restlessly.

Tracks of faintest silver told of tears he didn't know he'd shed.

One deep breath, and then another, as he felt Vejiita's shock and pain and…and recognition, his joyous satisfaction at their joining flow through him. He felt the blood dripping down Vejiita's face as if it were staining his own skin.

He didn't love him. Not now, not exactly. It didn't matter.

Kakkarot lifted his head, his eyes shining bright with fury and a hatred more absolute than any he had known before. It was his nature to do nothing by half measures.

Power ripped the night open as he went to find his mate and destroy whatever had been foolish enough to hurt him.

*******************

There was a sudden fury of saiyajin flesh, and saiyajin eyes locked, black with teal.

Nappa grinned at Turles. He was going to die and he knew it, but he was going to hurt this bastard, one way or another. He didn't know who he was, or how he could be ascended, but it didn't matter now. He wasn't going to be the only one bleeding at the end of this.

He cursed himself, his stupidity and the irritation that had led him to stifle his links to the royal family after the brat had bitten him. He'd completely missed Vejiita's departure. If it wasn't for Tsuriya, how long would it have taken him to notice that the king was gone? The woman was tanked, and yet she'd still been on duty… What the fuck had been wrong with him, not to realize what was happening?

He'd gone after Vejiita as fast as he could, suppressing his own ki to keep anyone else from noticing. On Vegetasei, it rarely meant anything good when elites had to move that fast in the darkness. He'd arrived on the scene to find every one of his nightmares coming true. And he hadn't even realized it at first.

He had seen the dark, ki-less figure approach Vejiita as soon as he'd breached the cloud cover, but he'd done nothing. He'd thought it was Bardock, or that bakayaro son of his, coming to meet Vejiita and reconcile. He hadn't even warned his king! And now Vejiita was fallen, and Nappa was going to do everything, everything in his power to keep this stranger, this figure out of saiyajin mythology from getting to Vejiita to finish him off. Even if it meant Nappa's life.

Guard! Guard him! Idiot! Failure! He raged at himself, his shame fueling his anger, his anger sending his power levels higher than ever before, though it was all in vain. He was an elite saiyajin, the Commander of the Royal Guard. But he was not an ascended saiyajin. If he wasn't cunning and lucky beyond words, this fight wasn't going to last longer than a few seconds.

Below him he felt the faint glow of Vejiita's ki. He was finely attuned to it, after years of service; he'd been attuned to it before the brat was born. He was present at the birth, and had been the first one outside the royal family to hold the brat prince. Since the moment he'd been appointed bodyguard as a young man, his entire life had centered on Vejiita. Unlike the bastard facing him, Nappa knew that the king was recovering his senses, that he was less injured than his ki told.

Nappa only had to give him a few moments, no matter how he paid for them. Ascended or not, this bastard would fall, just like all of Vejiita's other enemies. Nappa had absolute faith in that.

The enormous saiyajin gave no thought to who his opponent was. Yes, he looked like Bardock, he looked like Kakkarot, but it didn't matter at all. He was a traitor and an enemy, end of story.

He attacked, massive fists pumping into the lean stomach of his enemy, making him grunt slightly before kicking Nappa away from him. His mouth bleeding, Nappa returned the favor, planting a hard boot into a handsome face.

Turles took the shot, which he hardly felt, and slid backwards in the air. With a casual movement, he met Nappa's next attack by slapping him away with his tail, the sting and shock threading up his spine. It wasn't debilitating, not to him, but he heard the bones crack and scented blood somewhere under Nappa's armor.

He didn't want this. He'd spent the last few years protecting saiyajins, rescuing them from harm, and it went against his instincts to brutalize a saiyajin he had no cause to hate. Every instinct urged him to finish Vejiita and find Bardock, but this huge, feral saiyajin wouldn't back off, wouldn't accept that he was outmatched and only living on Turles' sufferance now.

They fought in swift movements, almost invisible to the eye, exchanging tremendous blows and focused blasts of energy, using skills honed by years of conflict and founded in saiyajin lust for battle. Yet Turles was not injured, and he snarled at Nappa, frustrated and annoyed.

He made a move to dive for the ground, but the hulking warrior intercepted him, blocking his way. A feint to the left got him a kick in the teeth, and that actually hurt, as well as being humiliating. Enough was just about fucking well enough.

Wiping the blood away with the back of his hand, Turles smirked at the big saiyajin. "You ready to die for him?"

Nappa shrugged. "It's my job, asshole. Think you're up to it?"

Turles had to laugh. Then he whirled around suddenly, landing a kick that shattered the tough armor, broke most of Nappa's ribs, and sent the bodyguard hurtling toward the earth below. "Yeah," he said almost absently, "I think I am."

With that he dove down through the clouds, intent on finding Vejiita and ending this before anyone else got hurt.

*****************

Vejiita groaned and sat up, shaking dirt and shattered rock from his skin. Blood from his torn scalp traced gaudy trails down his face, outlining both eyes. He looked like he was wearing tribal tattoos, as saiyajins had before his House united all the tribes. He was injured, but not gravely. He'd been stunned by the attack, and knocked nearly senseless, but he'd retained enough wit to suppress his ki, making the damage seem worse than it was to his enemy.

Not that it wasn't bad enough. Pain rippled up his spine as he straightened, and there was a sharp and terrible pain as his tail pulled free of the rubble. Something there was broken, fairly close to the base, and he found he couldn't wrap it on its own. Wincing, he shoved his armor up, wrapped the tail around his waist with careful hands, and then settled the armor back down over it. He sucked in a breath through his teeth; the armor would protect his tail somewhat, but the pressure made the whole length of it ache.

There were a few other injuries, and what he was fairly certain was a broken rib. Nothing he couldn't bear. Already he was having trouble keeping his ki suppressed as his system sent adrenaline surging through his body, sparking the fast healing that saiyajins in battle enjoyed. He could feel the need to hurt something burning through his bones as battle-lust descended on him. It was his saiyajin birthright. And was he not the epitome of saiyajin prowess?

He looked up at the flashing lights and thunderous sounds from above, knowing that Nappa did battle with his attacker. His new enemy, who he'd thought for a moment, too long a moment, was Kakkarot, and then Bardock. His assailant's face had been leaner, though, and scarred differently, and there was a sort of lean viciousness about him that spoke of harsher experiences than either of Vejiita's lovers had known. He had realized that all too late, and when the other had suddenly ascended, there hadn't been time left to respond.

Alone in the grey darkness, standing amidst the rubble of his downfall, Vejiita prepared to go into battle.

And then he felt it. Despair…and then warmth. A gentle infusion of warmth throughout mind and body…and spirit? He breathed in deeply of a scent that was not there, yet one he knew by heart.

Kakkarot. Kakkarot had submitted to the bond.

Kakkarot had accepted him.

Vejiita was frozen with joy and shock that this should come now, of all times. He could feel the pain and fear that had inspired Kakkarot's capitulation, and he soothed it as best he could from here, sending comfort. He felt raw hatred in return, but it comforted him. It was hatred on his behalf, not hatred of him, and it struck some feral chord in him, some primitive place that understood only that his mate was coming to fight by his side. Dark eyes flashed red, taking on the color of oozaru for a moment as he rose into the air. He was a saiyajin king, a saiyajin god, and he and his rightful mate would sweep the skies.

Soon. Kakkarot was close to him. He licked his lips, tasting blood not yet spilled and kisses still unclaimed. It would be soon. Something twinged at the back of his mind, but he wasn't prepared to listen to anything but the sound of his coursing blood.

His head jerked up as a thin streak of light and a rush of air went by him, and he knew it was Nappa. The gods knew how the big bastard had found him, but he was grateful. Nappa had bought his king valuable time, time to recover and time to bind his mate. It could easily have gone the other way. He flew to where the big man had cratered the ground and knelt by his side. Unconscious. Badly injured, but recoverable.

Another debt to repay.

He bared his teeth at the skies above.

Nappa groaned, and Vejiita saw bone shards pierce his skin from the inside as he moved restlessly, still unconscious. Bronzed skin darkened with blood. It was almost beautiful to Vejiita in his current state. He bent lower, tempted to taste it. And then the thought that had been hiding underneath lust for perfect flesh and bloody death came to the front of his mind, and Vejiita froze.

He could ascend, would ascend to fight the other; the air would scream with the glory of saiyajin legends in the flesh. But Kakkarot could not ascend. Kakkarot was, of the three who would battle, by far the weakest. A canny enemy would take him first.

That was unthinkable. With the first stab of real fear, Vejiita reached out to his approaching mate and ordered him to stop, to stay away. He received grim laughter in return. It was already too late. With horror and lust warring in his heart, Vejiita looked up to see Kakkarot arrive and take up a fighting stance above his head.

Dark eyes flashed in greeting, but they didn't even have time to touch. A few moments later, Turles dropped through the clouds like a falling star and came at them.

*******************

Bardock screamed, a sound of raw pain that made Radditz bristle in instinctive warning and alarm. His father had stopped in his flight as a power to the north exploded. Radditz' senses weren't fine enough to tell much more about it, but he knew that it must be Vejiita. Who else could it be? There was no other living ascended saiyajin. Radditz knew that as well as anyone.

It was bad, though. Turles must have already found him, and his plan, whatever it had been, hadn't worked. Vejiita was a killer of the finest saiyajin breeding; if Turles had lost the initiative, if his plan to weaken the king hadn't worked, then there wasn't much that could save him.

It tore Radditz' heart in two directions. At least Kakkarot wouldn't have to suffer the horror of losing his mate, however unworthy that mate was of him. But Vejiita was going unpunished, now and forever, and Turles was going to die a hard death. A much harder death, perhaps, than his father had ever imagined for him before. He had managed something like pity for his uncle, though still alloyed with resentment for his tail, among other things. Saiyajin family bonds, always stronger than most species', had already begun to tie him to Turles, in any case.

But his father…

The look on Bardock's face was terrifying. He had found his brother, maybe the true love of his life, alive after all these years, only to lose him again before ever seeing him. There was enough simple tragedy in that to utterly chasten the younger saiyajin.

"Otousan," he said hesitantly, touching his father's face with a gentle hand. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," Bardock said after a moment. His eyes barely seemed to register Radditz, and his son knew his mind was caught up in the events still far from them. Could it be his brother bond? Had something opened it again?

"I think you got your wish, Radditzu," Bardock said calmly, coldly. Then, without another word, he took off again, leaving his bewildered son temporarily in his wake.

The elder saiyajin's mind raced and tore at itself. He knew that awesome ki hadn't been Vejiita's. He wasn't likely to mistake his brother for anyone else now. He could almost feel him, could almost taste him. He had felt the anguish and the rage, and then that incredible power… It didn't matter that he knew Vejiita was the only one who could manage such a thing. That was Turles.

And since there was no answering surge of ki… He searched for Vejiita's ki, but he could hardly get a glimmer of it. Had he truly fallen? Bardock could hardly imagine it.

Vejiita… He had always been loyal, always believed in Vejiita from the first moment he'd seen the boy strike Furiza. For a long time, Vejiita had been his replacement for the younger brother he'd always had before. He'd looked after Vejiita with almost the same fierce tenderness that he'd held for Turles. And when the boy in his care had grown to the magnificent king he now served with such pride, hadn't his feelings also changed to mimic those he'd had for Turles?

Vejiita no Ou. Foster son, replacement brother, one-time lover, savior of Vegetasei, upholder of saiyajin glory. Ascended saiyajin, a god in the flesh. His love for the man was as tangled as a hard life could make it.

Oh, gods, Turles…I love you, I need you, don't make me have to hate you…

He heard the strangled cry behind him at the same moment he felt the shift in his head, the blending and linking of bonds, the surge of emotions. He could feel the shock and horror from Radditz through their link. He didn't even have to turn and look to know the open-mouthed surprise on his eldest son's face.

Kakkarot had completed his bond with Vejiita. So Vejiita wasn't dead, and his bakayaro son had learned his lesson and done the right thing. He was pleased, and proud of said bakayaro, actually, in some part of his mind still remote and untouched by current events. The rest of his mind screamed out protest, knowing that Kakkarot was close to Vejiita now, close enough that he would fight to protect his mate. Turles didn't know the two were mated, and unless it somehow came up in casual conversation, he wasn't going to. Kakkarot would die no matter whether he or Vejiita fell; bound mates didn't survive each other, not with their minds intact. And if Vejiita won the coming battle… Turles would die.

Surrounded by bad choices and bad outcomes, Bardock put on more speed than he had know he was capable of, running north as fast as he could, the sea foaming and roaring upwards in his wake. Behind him Radditz flew, his mind still reeling from the wash of Kakkarot's emotions, and his own dismay. There was no conceivable way that either one of them would make it there in time to stop what was coming, but they were saiyajin, and unable not to fight for the ones they loved.

******************

Vejiita ascended with a roar, the earth breaking away unnoticed under his feet as he gathered power sufficient to destroy worlds to him. Above him, Kakkarot prudently descended, taking his place at Vejiita's side. He meant to defend him, but a moment later it was Vejiita who saved him, snagging him around the waist and moving faster than sight to one side as a barrage of ki rained down on them. The world around them burst and exploded, but neither one was hurt. Another clever barrage nearly drove them into motion again, but these Vejiita simply stood in front of, deflecting them with his massive ki and an outstretched palm. When the dust and smoke cleared, he was still standing there, unruffled, with one hand held out and the other around Kakkarot's waist, pulling that delicious form close.

When this was over, the victor meant to have his spoils.

"Let go of him, kisama. Haven't you done him enough harm without using him as a shield?" the enemy said, his voice not unlike Bardock's. The similarity, in fact, was somewhat eerie.

"Who the fuck are you?" Vejiita growled.

"Turles," came the answer, right before he came close for a personal attack that Vejiita was hard-pressed to defend against.

"The hell you are," Kakkarot said simply enough, diving through this second eerie saiyajin's defenses long enough to land an ineffectual punch to his head.

"You look just like your father, brat," Turles said in an almost affectionate tone before hitting the saiyajin hard enough to crater the ground with him. "Don't give him another son to mourn."

With something like shock, Kakkarot felt outward for his niisan, as he'd always done when crisis struck, as he had done even when there was no crisis, when there was only loneliness or boredom or some trivial bit of angst to banish. He recognized it suddenly, the delicious, sharp feel of Radditz in his head, unhidden now that the voices telling him what to do with or about Vejiita had been silenced. He hadn't been thinking clearly enough earlier to even notice.

"Radditz isn't dead," he said, freeing himself from the rubble his fall had created.

"Not yet," Turles smirked. He meant Radditz no harm, but there was no hurt in unbalancing this brat, who was going to be an annoyance.

"What kind of saiyajin kills family?" Kakkarot began hotly, but he was interrupted by the roar from Vejiita.

"Quit talking and FIGHT ME!!!"

With the last syllables from his mouth, the earth shook beneath them.

"Oh, by all fucking means," Turles purred, just before he attacked.

There had never been anything like it before, anywhere. Never in all history had two ascended saiyajins fought, and the very air shrieked in their wake as the battle raged. Kakkarot, to his vast frustration, found that the fight was too fast for him to join and, indeed, almost too fast to see. Neither man lacked skill or power, and both had the benefit of years of experience.

Yet neither of them was experienced in fighting opponents at their own power level in this form. For Vejiita, as for Turles, enemies were only crushed, never battled with after he ascended. With rare exceptions, neither had ever met anything like their match before. The surprise and irritation became easy to see on both sweat- and blood-streaked faces.

Vejiita, warrior-king of a warrior race, spun in mid-air, landing a kick that sent Turles flying, his hardened, super-powered body powdering rock as it plowed through a nearby hill. For a moment there was peace, and Vejiita turned to steal a glance at the lover he wanted so badly. That beautiful face reflected how avid Kakkarot was for the fight, and the king almost laughed. It was glorious, a sight to carry with him all his life. It was all his, that ferocious beauty, and he would protect it.

He almost missed the scream and explosion of anger from the other side of the hill, but he was paying attention when Turles burst upwards into the air, leaving the hill to collapse in on itself. It wasn't something he was likely to miss. Grinning, he went on the attack again.

Turles was finding himself harder pressed than he'd predicted. The bastard king was weakening under his fists, but not as fast as he liked. There was a chance, growing greater with every moment, that this could turn out badly for him. He couldn't allow that. All his planning, all the promises he'd made to the ones he'd rescued, all the darkness of his own heart that he'd poured into preparing for this moment… he couldn't let it be for nothing. There was Bardock to think of, the ever-loyal Bardock to win back. He bent his will to the task.

Still, it became slowly clear that Turles was losing. Despite the amount of fighting he had done over the past few years, despite years before those spent as a gladiator, he wasn't used to such bitter, evenly matched duels. Nor, in fact, had his line been bred for strength and speed over ten thousand generations. And he had no mate there to watch him, or to burn with anger on his behalf.

Another few minutes, and Turles wasn't able to shake off an attack as quickly as before, leaving him stunned and motionless in the air. With practiced ease and a smirk that was almost lethal in and of itself, Vejiita materialized behind him and smashed the older saiyajin down with both fists. Turles' skid left a deep, bloody furrow in the earth, terminating against a rock outcropping that powdered into dust at the impact.

Vejiita stood in the air, panting a little, his eyes fixed on the end of that furrow, waiting for his enemy to arise. An icejin traitor, he figured, conditioned by those freaks to think killing the Saiyajin no Ou a virtue. He'd met such ones before, in the interrogation cells, or the rehabilitation centers. It was true that this saiyajin didn't sport the glazed eyes and misshapen tails of the 'conditioned' ones, but he must still be in their class. In league with them, perhaps, and certainly with Kula. The bastard icejin knew he couldn't win the war with Vejiita leading armies against him. This was his ridiculous attempt to win, then.

Ridiculous… An ascended saiyajin. The pinnacle of his race, the goal that every saiyajin strived for. Used against the king of all saiyajins like a weapon, an errand boy. Just another tool in the icejin arsenal. Vejiita's disgust and rage peaked and exploded. Howling, he let a barrage of ki loose at Turles, hoping to hammer him into the ground and bury him there. Maybe Vegetasei would swallow him whole, fold over the bastard's corpse and hide the shame of the saiyajin race.

Dirt and rock exploded upward in fountains, smothering the landscape all around and leaving a choking cloud of smoke in its wake. Vejiita waited, poised in the air, his hands still held stiffly out, for a dozen, two dozen heartbeats before his eyes slid inevitably over to find his mate.

Turles waited in darkness, letting the earth pulse and pound around him as it absorbed Vejiita's strike. The half-daze of battle began to slip away from him, and he confronted, for the first time, the notion that he might lose this fight.

He clutched the images of a thousand atrocities to his heart. He made himself think of Kakkarot, the very image of Bardock, charging him, going against an ascended saiyajin on behalf of a king who had raped and tortured him for sport. What else had Vejiita done to him, to make him fight so fiercely? And Bardock… Despite Radditz, Bardock was on his way. Was he coming to see Turles, or would he also defend the bastard no Ou? He couldn't make himself reach out to his brother through their link, for fear that the answer would be the one he couldn't bear.

Betrayal. From the ones he needed most, his family. And defeat, at the hands of the one he hated most.

He would have vengeance.

Once again, it was simply a matter of breaking under the strain, in the way that only an ascended saiyajin could.

Vejiita smiled at Kakkarot, at the ferocity in his posture and in his glance, and thought about silky touches. Kakkarot looked up and slowly grinned at his king, having caught those thoughts. They seemed to flow naturally from the battle-lust, and he found nothing wrong with them. He was still afraid of Vejiita, afraid of their bond, but he could hardly resist that combination of blonde hair and green eyes… He was delectable…

With a scream and a rumble of tortured earth, Turles burst skyward. The golden aura had transmuted and grown, just as his body had, and now small lightning bolts shot through it, pulsing like a heartbeat. The power than rolled off him was greater than anything the other two saiyajins had ever seen. Greater than Vegetasei had ever seen.

Vejiita gaped. How could this be? Was there another level beyond ascension? One he hadn't achieved? He was, though part of his mind refused to admit it, suddenly outmatched. That hadn't happened to him since he was a child, and he stared, stunned, as Turles came for him again. Only Kakkarot's quick reflexes, pulling him out of the path of Turles' fist, saved him from the painful consequences of his amazement.

Turles laughed out loud, feeling the power flow through him. He hadn't imagined this. Not even at his worst had he ever glimpsed this level. His manic laughter flowed past numb lips. It was so hard to think now. All he could feel was rage and delight, well-mixed. All he could conjure was Bardock's name, and the simple fact that this…weakling in front of him, this king of nothing, was in between Bardock and himself in every way that mattered.

He saw a moment of fear in Kakkarot's eyes as the brat snatched his sovereign away. That was good. He should be afraid, the traitorous spawn. How could he go against family like this? Kakkarot was Bardock's image and thus Turles'; he only had to look in the mirror to know where his allegiance should lie. Turles would see him schooled once the Ou was gone.

And, speaking of which, time to take care of that.

He was so fast in this form that he almost missed Vejiita. Almost. His fingers caught hold of the royal neck and squeezed as supernaturally strong hands clawed at him. There was a blow at the back of his neck, but he shrugged it off. Kakkarot wasn't much more than an annoyance now. He saw teal eyes widen in something that was almost fear before it reverted to unholy rage, but it did the Ou no good. Turles cratered the earth with his royal carcass, heaving him downwards with all of this new strength.

If only he could stop the tears from flowing, he would be enjoying this.

Kakkarot screamed in sudden anguish and dropped to Vejiita's side, kneeling next to him in the dirt. He had struck so hard that he'd dropped out of his ascension, and now he lay stunned, his ki dwindling.

"Vejiita!" he called desperately, hesitating to lift him up for fear of hurting him.

"Get away from him, asshole," Turles said, only a dozen feet away now, his golden tail whipping back and forth as he stood in the clearing air above him.

"Fuck off," Kakkarot snarled, crouching into a fighting stance between Turles and his king. "Do you think I'd let you take him?"

"No," Turles said calmly enough. With a gesture, he sent a massive bolt of energy down with pinpoint accuracy, not at his nephew, but at a spot just behind him and Vejiita. The concussion threw both saiyajins in different directions, their bodies arcing in the air before thudding into the earth. Without a glance at Kakkarot, Turles was on Vejiita a few fragile seconds later, pulling the nearly senseless king off the ground by his throat.

He had him. Vejiita's eyes were closed, blood leaking slowly from one of them and from his mouth. The arrogant features of his patrician face were drawn and pale. A wound over one eye split one finely arched brow in two. That wild hair was tangled, locks of it clinging to the blood and sweat of his brow and neck.

Turles shook him, and those black eyes opened to stare at him. "Hurts, doesn't it, my Ou?" Turles said, baring his teeth mirthlessly.

Vejiita had no answer for him. Instead, weak hands curled up around his own, trying to pry it away. "You want to live, Vejiita?" Turles asked him, cocking his head to one side as if he was actually curious. "Want some of the mercy you never bothered showing for your own kind? A little concern? A kind hand?"

Vejiita kneed him in the crotch.

Turles laughed. "I expected no less from my king."

*****************

Kakkarot tumbled down the broken slope, leaving a bloody trail behind him. Every part of his body sent in reports of damage and injury, of bones broken and skin ruptured. By the time he skidded to a stop, his body was afire with pain.

He wasn't ascended. He wasn't made for this kind of abuse, for this level of combat. Instinct and experience told him he was way out of his league, but as he lay gasping in the dirt, he knew it didn't matter. He was going to have to go back for Vejiita. He was going to have to do whatever he could. Because that was his…mate back there. He hadn't asked for him, hadn't wanted him, but he had him, he was bound to him, and no fucking ghost was going to hurt him any more.

He could feel Vejiita's pain and rage pounding in his head. It helped him push his body upright and started him back up the hill. He couldn't fly. His head was reeling, and he couldn't seem to control his ki very well. Staring at the ground, he followed the trail of his own blood.

The pounding in his head came in rhythmic waves, making him nauseous. If only he could think clearly, maybe he could figure a way out of this. Why was Turles doing this? Why was he even alive?

He could feel the usually sweetly thrumming presences in the back of his mind screaming fear and horror as his niichan and Otousan realized through him what was happening. Yeah, guys, it's great. Got myself bound to the king, and my long-lost uncle is gonna kill him. Life's just astonishingly fucking good sometimes, isn't it?

There wasn't any answer, but he was fine with that. He was almost at the top of the hill, and soon Turles, or whoever the fuck that was, would kill Vejiita, and then he could just die or go mad, whatever the proper thing for a royal mate was, and it would be over. And that gods-damned pounding in his head would stop!!!

Thud. Rage. Thud. Pain. Thud. Fear.

At least it was slowing down now.

He had reached the top. Kakkarot looked up from the ground, and everything suddenly stopped.

Turles had cut Vejiita's throat. It wasn't a deep cut, but it spanned his throat, and he dangled limply from the hold Turles' fist now had on his armor. Blood sheeted down, soaking his front, running over Turles' clenched hand and pattering slowly on the ground.

His heart was slowing down.

Kakkarot's mate was dying.

He stared, stunned, unable for the longest moments of his life to believe that this was really happening. Turles' glory illuminated everything, making it all gorily clear to him.

The glowing saiyajin didn't look at him, didn't seem to notice that he was there. He smiled at Vejiita, and then, with great deliberation, bent down to taste royal blood.

For a long, long moment, Kakkarot felt nothing, thought nothing. Then he felt a last weak pulse of emotion in his mind, so alien and so familiar that he knew it was Vejiita, a wave of regret and loneliness that seemed to center entirely on Kakkarot. Afterwards there was only silence, and the sight of the hard, muscled body hanging helpless in Turles' grasp.

Kakkarot went insane.

~TBC~