Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dominion ❯ Epilogue

Dominion

Author: Xero Sky

Date: July 2002 - January 2003

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

Epilogue: Part One of Two

Juro no Ouji moved through the sea of his father's courtiers like the prince he was.

The young saiyajin, well-groomed and fully armored, stalked down the hallways of the palace with as much dignity as he was capable of, which was quite a bit. He was terribly excited, but he'd be damned if he would show the baka commoners that. Not that they were technically commoners, but they weren't royalty either, now were they? He smirked at the carefully solemn saiyajins who parted before him like the sea parting before the prow of a ship.

Unbeknownst to him, his Guards, following closely behind, scowled fiercely at anyone showing a trace of a smile, thus preventing anyone from clueing the ouji in on precisely how kawaii he was. During Vejiita's youth, such a display of disrespect would have led to dismemberment. No one was really willing to see if that unwritten rule had been repealed or not, so Juro remained unenlightened.

He wasn't paying much attention, anyway. Otousan had given him permission to go get Rai and bring him back to their rooms to get ready for the ceremony. Rai didn't have to go back to Nappa for the whole rest of the day, either! Juro could hardly wait.

It wasn't as if they weren't together all night. In fact, after Rai's punishment began, they had dragged Juro's bed into Rai's bedroom so they could sleep closer together. Rai hadn't been too sure Otousan would approve of that, but the next evening they'd found both of their beds and all their things moved into another, bigger room. Apparently Otousan hadn't objected too much.

Even so, he missed Rai during the day. It didn't matter that he always felt their link in his head. He missed seeing him, fighting with him, plotting with him - hell, just being with him. The simple thought of going and rescuing his brother from Nappa made him glow. He couldn't wait to see the look on Rai's face.

Nappa, he'd been told, was visiting the graveyard, which meant that Rai was there too. He could hardly keep himself from running.

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

The female Guard's face was scarred, but she held herself proudly. With calm pride, she named the planets she'd fought on and the high marks of her service to the Ou. It was a familiar story, and yet different from all the rest. They were all different, in one way or another. Like many, too many of the Guard, she'd died defending Vejiita's father.

Her grave bore the royal crest in black and green, the colors of mourning. Her name, the date of her death, and the name of the king she'd served to the death were engraved beneath it on one of the inlaid panels in one of the many mortuary walls within the graveyard of the Royal Guard of the House of Vegeta.

The life-sized hologram of the female Guard flickered in the air and was replaced with a scroll of text listing the details of her death. Her body had not been recovered, but a scrap of her genetic material, collected for just such a purpose ahead of time, was encased in the darkness of her shrine. When the text was done, the hologram turned off, and there was silence in the graveyard again.

Nappa studied the small ouji. There were dozens of walls here, their surfaces covered with the panels that marked the shrines of every Guard who had ever died in the service of the royal House. Incense scented the air, smoldering in small braziers placed here and there along the walls spread out across the tree-covered grounds. It was customary to add a few grains of incense to the braziers upon entering, symbolically adding to the prayers for the souls of the dead. Nappa had made Rai add a handful when they came in.

"Do you understand why I brought you here, brat?" he asked, his voice neither particularly gentle nor harsh.

Rai furrowed his brow in thought. He took all such questions very seriously, a trait that Nappa found endearing as hell, though he wasn't about to let the ouji know that. "Because one day someone might die for me like that?" he asked in answer, his dark eyes meeting Nappa's unflinchingly.

Damn. The boy was perceptive.

"Because all of us would die for you if we had to, Rai no Ouji. It's your duty to be worthy of us," another voice answered him.

Nappa turned to see Tsuriya standing behind them. She crumbled a handful of incense into the nearby brazier and smiled at them, but her eyes were somber. To Nappa they seemed too large in her pale face.

He turned back to Rai, who was frowning, thinking about what she'd said. The small ouji nodded abruptly, as if he'd suddenly come to the conclusion that she was right. "Did you ever talk to Otousan about this?"

Nappa repressed a smile. "Hai, ouji-sama. When he was your age, in fact."

"Then you'll have to tell Juro, too."

The burly bodyguard bowed briefly, hiding a smirk. He noted that the aforementioned other ouji was now all but hurling himself across the graveyard grounds towards them now. "That'll have to wait for another day," he said. "I think Juro's come to take you to get ready for the ceremony now. Go on. I'll see you at dawn tomorrow."

Rai managed to nod to both him and Tsuriya before tearing off to meet his brother. The two of them left with their tails hooked together, telling each other the details of their day apart from each other.

Nappa smirked and turned to Tsuriya. "Are you sure you should be doing this today?"

She snorted. "I'm the head of bakayaro-sama's Guards, aren't I? I didn't think this afternoon was optional for either one of us."

He eyed her. "'Bakayaro-sama'? Does Vejiita know you call him that?"

She merely raised a brow at him and looked somewhat disgusted at his obviously stunted intellect.

"Just wanted to see if your brain was still broken," he said, smirking.

She waved a hand at him dismissively. "So what if it is? I'm still not stupid, or suicidal. And if anyone else calls him that, by the way, I'll rip his tail off and strangle him with it.

He laughed, then sobered somewhat. "You still having the visions?"

She shrugged. "Just often enough to piss me off."

"Fuck, Tsuriya, you're one of the most irritable people I've ever known. How often does that make it? Once? Once a day? What?" Nappa asked, moving along the walls and tending here and there to the shrines, rearranging the small offerings left before many of them. Strips of red silk, embroidered with prayers or messages for the dead, fluttered in the gentle wind.

"Every few days," she said, grumbling. "Only a flash, and then it's gone. Just lasts long enough to annoy the shit out of me."

They walked for a while in silence. Both came here fairly often in the normal course of things; part of every Guard's duty was caring for the dead. The graveyard had a familiar, comforting feel to it.

"They still tell you the same thing?" Nappa asked eventually, his tone deliberately casual.

"War?" She laughed. "Sure. With the icejins. But any drunken bastard with a tail could tell you that. It's been heading that way since Vejiita scattered Furiza's shit to the winds."

"Hn." Then: "You think what you see is true?"

She gave him a look he couldn't quite interpret. "Bardock's visions weren't."

"His first ones weren't, but only because of what he did about them. The ones he had in the tank were."

"Except Kakkarot never attacked Vejiita, did he?"

Nappa snorted in disgust. "That's pathetic, Tsuriya, and you know it. He just mistook Turles for his son, and that's fair enough. That family's genetics are a fucking mystery. If he didn't smell like he was related to that bunch of look-alikes, I'd swear Radditz' mother lied to Bardock."

She smirked at that, and then shrugged. "Fifty-fifty chance, then."

"You're no damned help at all, are you?" Nappa said, stopping near the cemetery gates to turn and face her.

"Not if I can help it," she said smugly. "Besides, what's it matter? War will come: if not now, then later. The only question is whether we're ready."

"So are you ready?" The question was serious, and meant a lot of things. She glanced up at him, catching an odd tone in his voice. She wasn't sure what it was, but it struck her as strangely personal, and she wasn't ready for it.

She had pursued death. Anything to get free from that green hell. It hadn't come. Despite everything, despite her fervent desire, she had lived. And, after more time in the tank, she had recovered. The doctors talked about certain levels of chemical Y having been balanced by hormone Z, of the activity of one thing having been skyrocketed by a sudden flood of some other thing. Those were mysteries she didn't bother to explore. They didn't matter anyway.

Tsuriya felt scoured out, burned clean inside to the bare bone. She understood the sequence better than the doctors did. The meaning behind it, if there even was one, was lost to her. She'd been reduced to the fundamentals of existence: awareness within a supporting shell. Seeing Nappa in pain through the tank window when Rai bit his tail had galvanized her, making her reach out to discover what had happened to him. By the time she managed to force her self out of the shell, Nappa was fine, but other things were approaching, intent on harming what was of value to her: Turles, going after the king.

Looking at him now, with that faint glint in his eyes, that odd thread of meaning in his tone reminded her of things she'd rather not consider now. The sick feeling she'd felt seeing his familiar face contorted in pain came back to her. She didn't know… She couldn't deal with that now. She was the newly appointed chief of Kakkarot's Guards.

Kakkarot was somewhat uncomfortable around her, and she personally thought that Vejiita was using that to teach his mate a lesson. Guards were not disposable, or to be treated with anything less than respect. Though she would lay her life down to protect Kakkarot, she didn't mind him feeling nervous. She called him bakayaro-sama in private only, slowly working out bitterness. Anyone else using such a term for him would answer to her.

The royal mate had apologized to her formally; Vejiita had not, and she hadn't expected it. Any saiyajin would have reacted the same way to their mate being beaten down.

She pulled herself from her reverie. Nappa was standing in front of her, watching her with dark, patient eyes. He had been there every day for her, caring for her, helping her in her recovery. She had no lovers now, nor had her family survived the first icejin retaliation for Furiza's death. Nappa was the closest to her, the one constant in her life now that circumstances had made the king himself betray her. She didn't resent Vejiita, but Nappa's constancy was all the more precious to her. It made her feel…odd, uncertain what to say or do, she fell back on saiyajin basics.

Holding up a fist, Tsuriya smiled at Nappa. Her hair, caught back in a thick braid, moved restlessly as if in a rising wind, and she suddenly seemed to burst into flames. A bluish-green aura, flecked here and there with the sheen of gold, pulsed around her, and her eyes seemed to flare a dark purple. It wasn't a form of ascension either one of them recognized, nor did Nappa's scouter register her as being anywhere close to that level. It was, however, significantly more power than she'd ever had before, well surpassing Nappa's own. Her grin was feral.

Nappa smiled back, somewhat uncertainly. He'd known that she must have gained power in coming back from death. All elites did. But this… It made her an even better choice for Kakkarot's Guard, of course. Despite everything, he knew she was dedicated. He never questioned that. Yet there was that wildness in her, that streak of instability that now made his blood cool a little. She was formidable, an asset in any sense of the term, and pledged to the House of Vegeta.

And yet… His heart fell as he realized that the feelings he'd realized for her would always be slightly tainted now by that faint but undeniable need to keep an eye on her. He trusted her. He always would. But he would always watch.

"I take it this means you're ready," he asked, gathering himself.

She nodded slowly, smirking, and then released the power she'd gathered. "I can hardly wait."

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

Radditz stalked through the palace halls, his cape flaring behind him despite the weight of his hair. He was deferred to on almost every side, and he didn't mind it a bit. Despite the chaos he'd caused as a child, the palace staff had always indulged him, being generally fond of Lord Bardock's sons. The current cautious deference both amused and suited him. Much of it was a genuine mark of respect for his new rank, but there was plenty of cautious, grinning, tail-sniffing going on.

Rumors flew. The palace didn't know what to make of them. Obviously something catastrophic had taken place several days ago; no one with a scouter or a nose for ki could have missed a battle between three ascended saiyajins. The power had been astonishing, and the number of combatants disturbing. As far as anyone knew, Vejiita no Ou was the only ascended saiyajin.

Depending on which version of the legend you listened to, there wasn't supposed to be more than one every thirty generations. So who had the others been? Could that really have been Bardock's son, Kakkarot? And what about the other one? Had that been Bardock? The ki signatures had been similar, after all.

Radditz, uninjured, un-bonded, and with time on his hands, had been deliberately stirring them up for the past couple of days. His armor now bore the royal crest within a golden circle: the insignia of a non-inheriting member of the royal House. He might not be in the line of succession, but he had definitely moved up in the world, even though hardly anyone knew it for certain yet.

He enjoyed the looks he was getting now. It was one of the few entertainments to be had right at the moment. Vejiita had approved the change in his armor, as well as his installment in the private wing of the palace, but nothing official was being said until this afternoon. After that, everyone would know.

He sighed, not as distracted by the spectacle they were presenting him as he usually was. It was doing nothing to take his mind off what was simmering under his exterior.

Kakkarot.

He wanted to believe that his brother was happy. Everything he'd ever known about bonds told him that at this point Kakkarot probably was happy. It was the nature of bonds. By now, the two had found harmony in each other. Their ki had shifted slowly to resemble each other's, as had their scents. It was the way things worked. Even bitter enemies, once bound, found happiness with each other.

As for the bond itself, well, who knew how those things worked? Radditz surely didn't. There was more than enough myth and folklore around to explain everything, if you wanted to dig for it. The truth… that was much harder to get at. Ultimately, though, he supposed it didn't matter. They were bound. He fully acknowledged that. It all just seemed…cheap, somehow.

Vejiita raped his brother, and now got to keep him for life? What about a reckoning? What about justice? And even if you could leave all that aside, what bargain had Kakkarot made out there on the battlefield to save Turles? Radditz didn't know. He hadn't been privy to the mental conversation between his brother and his mate. He felt, though, that some deal had been struck. Intuition informed him. Yet he'd seen little of the mated pair over the last few days, and he didn't have much to go on.

What it came down to was the one thing he wasn't in a position to demand: proof of Kakkarot's affections. Ironically enough, he was already fairly certain of Vejiita's. Not only had Vejiita obviously tried to protect Kakkarot against Turles, but his every movement when they were together spoke of an emotional attachment. The harsh king, scourge of the galaxy, was soft-spoken around his mate, considerate, and even openly affectionate. Radditz had grown up in the palace, in close proximity to Vejiita, but he did not recall ever seeing him like this before. Not with his consorts, not with his children, and not with Bardock. Not even that bastard Nappa inspired such behavior.

Radditz snarled softly and resisted the urge to scratch his scalp again. The small, fuzzy patch near the nape of his neck didn't hurt anymore, but it itched. What made it worse, of course, was the fact that the ungrateful bastard still had the hank of hair he'd ripped out of Radditz' head during the flight back from the battle. No one had been able to pry it out of his hand before he'd gone in the tank, not without hurting him, and he claimed to still have it. Kakkarot had speculated that Nappa had a crush on Radditz; immediately after that, the royal mate had learned that his new status wasn't proof against a brotherly ass-kicking. Of course, the little bastard had retaliated by ascending to the equivalent of saiyajin godhood…

And Vejiita had laughed. Radditz hadn't been surprised by the laugh itself, but by the light, relaxed quality of it. Only the four of them had been there, the mated pair plus Radditz and Bardock, and perhaps that had made the difference. They were all family now, without even the thin walls that had separated them before. Most families had alphas of some sort, and that was what Vejiita was with them now, the patriarch of a large family. Of course he felt relaxed with his family, and safe.

It was a simple but indisputable fact now that none of them would ever betray him again. Blood and bonds forbade it.

Whatever reservations Radditz might have about his brother and Vejiita, the truth was that he wasn't going to say a thing about them, or act on them in any way. Not only would it injure Kakkarot, who either felt strongly for his king or was determined that everyone think he did. It would also injure the family, this weird congregation of friends and enemies and lovers and mates. Pack ties were strong, too strong to deny.

Radditz sucked up his distress and went to inform the baka mates that they were on the verge of being late for their own ceremony.

The Guards knew him now, and no one barred his way into the private wing. He stomped down the hall that led to Vejiita and Kakkarot's quarters and was let in through the doors without so much as a knowing grin.

Once inside the warren of rooms and hallways he could scent both of them, but the place was so saturated with their stink that it gave him no real idea which way to go. Wrinkling his nose in mock outrage, he said loudly "It smells like a damned rut in here! Haven't we had enough trouble with that?"

His voice echoed. There was no other sound.

Gods damn those two! he thought, and began looking. Vejiita had rooms to spare in here. Radditz was faintly familiar with them. Back during the uncertain beginning of Vejiita's reign, it hadn't been unusual for everyone Vejiita valued to live in these quarters with him; it was easier to defend them all in one place. Radditz hadn't understood then why the king hadn't simply destroyed his enemies, but he did now and respected it: Vejiita hadn't wanted to waste the best of his warriors so pointlessly when Kula still lived.

All of that was long past now, but Radditz still knew his way around. He found himself, despite his annoyance, succumbing to nostalgia. By the time Kakkarot was back home from Chi-something, whatever planet he'd been shipped to as a baby, the days of living in the royal chambers were passed, mostly. Still, there were some fair memories here.

He remembered teaching Kakkarot to fly down this corridor as a very young cub; he'd had to tow him by his tail because he hadn't learned to go anywhere but up yet. He also remembered his father chasing a naked and giggling Kakkarot around here, right after he'd learned to walk, trying to capture the brat before Vejiita saw him.

Smiling at the memories, he turned a corner and saw something far more interesting than the past.

Well, at least they're dressed, he thought randomly.

They were definitely dressed. The lights gleamed on highly polished formal armor, white and gold with the royal crest in red. Red silk capes, shot through with gold threads, swirled and flared as Kakkarot shoved his mate out a bedroom door and up against the wall opposite. Both wore black clothing underneath their armor, with black boots. In the place of his usual white gauntlets, Vejiita wore wide golden bracers over each wrist. Small gold rings pierced each ear, and his thrashing tail was banded along its length by five filigreed gold bands that caught the light.

The jewel of state, iridescent within a golden star, hung from a woven gold chain. It swung wildly as he was forced against the delicately inlaid wall.

Kakkarot was similarly decorated, although without the state jewel, of course. Radditz had seen him in formal clothing before, though not often, and now, as then, it fit him well, underscoring the strength that lay beneath his easy-going exterior. The similarity in their appearance made Radditz smile, even though it was not unusual for bond-mates to dress alike for special occasions.

He had a sudden, vivid memory of Kakkarot streaking past him one day when they were still quite young, his hands full of gold chains, with a trio of Guards in full pursuit. The brat hadn't done it for the royal gold, of course; he'd just wanted a good chase. He'd been brought back to Bardock bruised and unrepentant.

Now, however, it was apparent that the last thing on Kakkarot's mind was the finery he was wearing. Either unaware of or unconcerned about their audience, Kakkarot began licking his mate's throat, trailing just the tip of his tongue upward in long slick strokes. Vejiita, pinned, laughed and then gasped as the licking turned to nips and kisses. Kakkarot kept control as he moved to Vejiita's mouth, teasing with an agile tongue until the king growled and bit him, deepening the kiss by force. It was still Kakkarot's show, however; that much was obvious even to Radditz.

The younger male pressed his body sensually against his lover's, making the best of their tight clothing. Kakkarot's ornamented tail wrapped a sinewy thigh and while one of his arms twined around broad shoulders, the other hand began kneading the royal ass with obvious relish. Their kiss went on and on as they made love with their mouths, focusing all their erotic intent on the complex play of soft lips and clever tongues.

Radditz found himself quite breathless, wanting to smooth down his own fur and maintain the illusion of composure but not daring to touch his sensitive tail. He could not mistake the passion he saw for anything else. He knew his brother well enough to realize that this wasn't a show, either for himself or for Vejiita. The way his breath hitched, the way his cheeks were flushed… This was Kakkarot in full cry, bringing his seductive skills to bear on an obviously defenseless king. Vejiita didn't look as if he would have cared if it had been Kula himself standing there watching them, instead of Radditz.

The lust and the erotic play between them were obviously familiar and comfortable for them both. Radditz had never paid for sex in his life, but he'd had some friends who were notable whores, and he knew sexual falsehoods when he saw them. There was an art to lying, but it could never be made entirely convincing to a practiced eye. Radditz was convinced within moments of the genuine desire that ran between the two of them like their entwined ki. His doubts began to crumble.

"Are you positive we have to go?" Kakkarot asked, his voice rough with a soft, affectionate purr.

Vejiita wasn't quite willing yet to let their kiss be done with, and he resumed it, licking soft lips and a warm tongue, before reluctantly drawing back to answer. "Hai," he said. "They'll come looking for us if we don't."

"Alright, then," Kakkarot crooned, "but when we're done pleasing them, my king, you're going to please me. As soon as we get back, I'm going to fuck you breathless."

"You think so?" Vejiita asked, his voice muffled as he nuzzled his mate's corded neck.

Kakkarot only kissed him in reply. For a few more moments, they were lost in each other, touching and caressing, tasting warm flesh and hungry mouths. Then Radditz abruptly realized that Vejiita, despite his earlier words, wasn't going to let go of Kakkarot a second sooner than he was forced to. The family, the elite, and the ambassadors were already gathered. It was time for the happy pair to declare their bond before witnesses.

Besides which, they were giving Radditz wood in the worst way. He'd never been so grateful for the long skirt of his armor in his life. He also had no idea what to think of getting aroused by watching his brother make out with his king. He was certainly close to his brother, but it wasn't like they were bond-close. A little bewildered and more than a little bothered, he fell back on saiyajin standbys.

"Fuck after you've declared yourselves, you horny bastards! You're late!" he bellowed, making the hall ring with his voice. Physically he towered over the other two, whatever their power levels, and his presence filled the hallway.

Two heads jerked in his direction, and two sets of sharp teeth were bared.

One set was bared in return.

Kakkarot laughed. This was a challenge that would never happen, and he, at least, knowing his brother's scent well, had some idea what was firing Radditz' impatience with them. "Jealous, brother?"

Radditz smirked. "Not me. I don't mind my brother fucking my way to the top for me."

The Saiyajin no Ou got one last taste, and then reluctantly freed himself. Dark eyes were turned on Radditz. "Asshole."

Radditz bowed in acknowledgement. Vejiita tried in vain to hide his own smirk. "Did Nappa send you to roust us?"

"Vegita. The Saiyajin no Oujo asked me to tell you respectfully that she will be forced to get hideous revenge if you two delay her departure."

Vejiita's scowl wasn't enough to hide the affectionate glow that mention of his children usually brought him. Very few were able to read him well enough to note the subtle display of his emotions, but even Radditz caught that much from him.

"Hai, the brat's anxious. It's the first purge she's led herself," Vejiita nearly purred. Kakkarot laughed and pressed his lips to his mate's brow. Pride and affection were evident in his expression, his manner, and the possessive way his fingers laced Vejiita's.

"Let's go tell the bastards the bad news, koishii."

Arching a brow at his mate, Vejiita pulled him down the hall past Radditz. The taller saiyajin followed them out toward the throne room, thinking about what he'd seen, and what he felt.

He didn't like it, but he could live with it. This bond between the two of them had begun to reek of fate, an opponent that every saiyajin had to respect. Kakkarot was loving, lustful, and possessive towards Vejiita, everything that a bond-mate should be. If Radditz accepted what he'd seen in those few minutes, he had to respect it also.

It would have been unlike Kakkarot not to throw himself into the fray. The bond was real enough; Kakkarot had even been driven to ascend to defend Vejiita. And now… well, it seemed true. Maybe Kakkarot really was happy with it all.

He shrugged, finally, setting the argument aside. Tossing his hair back, he tugged his cape free of the mass of it and prepared himself. It was essentially a family matter now. Vejiita and his children were family, whether he was fully happy with it or not. None of the baka elite, or the diplomats, or the millions of saiyajins watching the broadcast, needed to know anything except what his brother and his mate were about to reveal to them. Like any good saiyajin family, this one would keep its secrets.

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

The throne room was large, intended primarily for spectacle rather than governance. Everything that was fine and splendid, everything that symbolized the strength of Vegetasei and the Saiyajin Empire had gone into the making of it. The ceiling was high and arched, but also transparent; the angled panels of glass cast sharp patterns of light across the fine stone floors and walls. Banners hanging below the ceiling were brilliant in the light. They were the banners that had been surrendered to the House of Vegeta during the unification of the tribes, ages ago.

Twisted pillars of deep blue stone shimmered as the light caught the tracery of delicate silver veins. On either side of the large doors a massive drum was mounted chest-high in a gleaming, carved wood stand. The oddly translucent skins stretched over the drums had been taken from enemies who had died in oozaru form in the time of Vejiita's ancestors; in death they were made to announce the approach of the Vegetasei kings to the seat of power.

The dais was elevated above the main floor, and the floor itself rose in gentle tiers, making certain that everyone could see without levitating. Not all elites were capable of flight, but they were all capable of jealousy; there was no reason to make it any easier for them to pick fights. At the moment, the floor was filled with the most powerful saiyajins on the planet, all of them wearing the emblems of their rank and station. None of them were sitting down; protocol did not permit anyone outside the royal family to sit in the Ou's presence at formal occasions.

Three members of the media corps, identifiable by the bulkier transmitters they wore instead of standard scouters, were stationed at various points in the room, their heads turning constantly as they sent everything they saw over the airwaves to the millions of saiyajins on Vegetasei and all those offworld.

On the top of the dais sat the large throne. It was carved from a white stone veined with gold that was rare on Vegetasei and found nowhere else. It was an example of the old style, wide and low. The design was simple and stark. The royal crest on the wall behind the dais, however, was not. Precious stones from every planet in the empire, all of them varying shades of brilliant red, were inlaid in an exquisite mosaic. Beams of sunlight passing through the transparent ceiling overhead made the crest glow against the black stone surrounding it.

Vegita no Oujo stood on the first step of the dais, her arms crossed, scowling at the crowd. She wore finery similar to her father's, although with somewhat less grace. It was apparent to those who knew her well that she was fuming with impatience. To the audience she seemed impassive and confident, as the heir to the throne should be. By ritual and custom, she was guarding her father's throne against any usurper, just as he had stood guard in his father's day.

For anyone other than the royal family, stepping on the dais carried the penalty of death.

The oujis sat together on one of the white stone benches along the wall that bore their father's crest. For the sake of symmetry, perhaps, they should have sat apart from each other, on either side of the dais, but there was no real chance of that happening. Although both were quiet now and solemn, their bond hummed and sparked with the intensity of their silent speech with each other.

Nappa crossed his massive arms and stood near the oujis. Tsuriya stood on the opposite side. A phalanx of Guards in dress uniform stood at intervals around the room. They were the elite of the elite, and looked it. Their scowls were enough to keep the crowd polite and aware of their manners.

When Vejiita entered his throne room, the thunderous sound of the massive drums announced his presence in the same manner that saiyajin kings had been announced for millennia. The sound was awesome, yet ultimately irrelevant with this king. No one could have missed his approach. His ki unshielded was unmistakable. Every eye in the room focused on the form of their king, resplendent in his power, as he thrust the doors open. Utter silence descended upon them, and upon most saiyajins, wherever they were in the galaxy, as the images reached them.

He was, without question, the most powerful saiyajin king in the history of their ferocious race. If not for a twist of fate, the saiyajins would now be no more than a memory of fear. All of their pride, their complex culture, and their overwhelming passions would even now be fading slowly away with the last survivors. Their king now was still young, and yet had already reached the pinnacle of their race. His people adored him and feared him and would gladly have offered their lives for him.

The elite, fractious and powerful and scheming, fraught with jealousies, sank down to one knee before him. His consorts, their status unchanged by Vejiita's bond-mating, were in the first rank. They had born his children, but they shared neither blood nor bonds with the House of Vegeta; their rank was the very highest, but they were not royalty. They were witnesses here, and Vejiita was as blind to their presence as he was to any other individual in the crowd. He would have noted any lack of respect, but there was none. Who would have dared?

Vegita bowed to her father, as did the others arrayed around the dais, but they did not kneel, nor did any Guard. Vejiita saluted her in return and went to his throne. There was a swirl of red silk as he sat, and the drums fell silent.

Vejiita smirked at his audience, surveying them with dark eyes, then lifted a hand. The elite rose. The eyes of an empire were fixed on him.

"Your king greets you," he said, his deep voice echoing throughout the room, and, with a few seconds' delay, sounding through the scouters and video screens of saiyajins on a hundred different worlds.

"The saiyajin empire is strong, stronger today than it has ever been. Our enemies fear us. Our vassals fear to anger us. The very word 'saiyajin' brings fear with it to the farthest reaches of the galaxy," he said.

"Over 20 years ago, Furiza brought our people to the brink of extinction. Since that time, we have grown strong, expanded our borders, and exterminated those who would destroy us. Today I will show you that there is no end to the pride and strength of saiyajin blood. We are a warrior race, yet we hold nothing higher than the bonds that tie us all to each other. It is the hope of each of us that we will find the one that completes us, our bond-mate. I have done so. And you will see that, with him at my side, there is no force in the universe that can threaten us again!" Vejiita's voice was stern and arresting, and so much attention was focused on him that they hardly noticed Kakkarot in the doorway until the drums rolled again.

Bardock had been waiting for his sons. Like the others, he was dressed for the occasion, the crest of the royal family now circled in gold on his armor, replacing the silver of a royal vassal. His face was solemn and gave nothing away. His eyes seemed odd, unfocused maybe. Kakkarot glanced at him oddly, and then smiled, squeezing his father's hand before stepping out into the light.

With Radditz and his father behind him as his honor guard, Kakkarot made his way toward Vegita, trying to walk slowly and with dignity. Vejiita had gone over everything with him beforehand, even down to the words of his speech, but being told what he had to do and doing it were different things.

/Your ass looks great in that get up, by the way,/ Radditz said dryly in his head.

/How can you even see my ass, you freak?/

/Because your tail's whipping around like you're a virgin facing his first cock./

/Oh… You're still a freak, but thanks./ Kakkarot stilled his tail, sliding it around his waist into a tight and more dignified wrap. There was, of course, no chance that his restless tail or his sudden control of it had been missed, either by the hawk-eyed elites or however many other people were watching this.

/Just make us proud, asshole,/ Radditz said fondly.

They stopped as the three of them reached Vegita, who held out a hand alight with her not-inconsiderable power. She said nothing; there was no need. She barred the way.

Vejiita came down from his throne and stood behind his daughter. He simply held his hand out, waiting to receive his mate's hand. It was only a formality, a moment of recognition for what already was. The only barrier that remained to be crossed was the formal one, the public crossing of the line, the admittance of Kakkarot and his family to the ranks of royalty.

Kakkarot placed his hand in Vejiita's. Bardock stepped forward and clasped their hands in his own, from above and below. "Of your parents and your families, I am the eldest still living, and so I will speak for all. The binding of mates cannot be denied. I give this bond my protection, and any who defy it will face my rage under sun and moon."

His words were pre-ordained, a slight variation on the phrases which had recognized mating bonds for ages beyond count.

Vejiita bowed his head briefly over their hands, and Bardock let go, stepping back. Vejiita laced the fingers of his free hand through Kakkarot's hair and drew him forward.

/Mine./

/No, mine./

Smirking, Vejiita kissed him before eyes of their empire. It wasn't a chaste kiss, but neither was it like the ones Radditz had watched them share. It was possessive, and a declaration.

Vegita lifted her palm and let the glowing flame of ki flicker out. She stepped back, and Vejiita drew his mate to his side.

"My bond-father," he said to Bardock, who bowed and went to stand beside and behind him.

"My bond-brother," Vejiita said to Radditz, his mouth quirking ever so slightly. The tall saiyajin bowed and moved to stand on the other side of Kakkarot.

All had crossed the line. All had become members of the Royal House. One last thing remained.

Vejiita stared at his elites, and at the multitudes beyond them. He smirked evilly, and then curled up a fist.

"Who dares challenge?!" he growled as the air around him caught fire and his darkness bled to gold.

There was a silence, not stunned but impressed, as the empire took in the radiance of their king.

Then Kakkarot did the same thing, his hair swirling in an invisible breeze just seconds before he ascended.

The silence that followed that wasn't stunned either. Shocked senseless was a better description.

The smug victory in the faces of the members of the Royal House was unmistakable. It translated extremely well across the vast distances of space to all the various species that watched in rapt fascination.

In the court of Kula, sole ruler of the icejin empire, a clawed fist curled around the arm of an ornate chair and shattered it. A slave chained to the chair didn't flinch as stone shards pelted its hide. It wasn't a saiyajin, nor did it have any particular love for their race, but it recognized fate when it saw it. The video screen clicked off and the icejin tyrant stalked away. Behind him, forgotten, the slave allowed itself a hidden grin of pleasure at what it knew was coming for the icejins. Then it took the largest of the razor-edged shards and cut the veins in its throat, finding a victory of its own.

From Vegetasei, the roars of elite approval were carried across the galaxy, finding echoes wherever there were saiyajins.

~tbc~