Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sole Survivors ❯ Homecoming ( Chapter 13 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

What happens when Vegeta and Bulma return to Vegeta-sei? Will the people accept their Prince and his alien Princess?

Formatting fixed!!!!! I figured it out! Save as Word Doc, not as HTML!

Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 03.05.2005 | Updated On: 04.25.2005 | Pages: 36 | Words: 40.6K | Visits: 2.2K | Status: Completed

Sole Survivors

By Queensaiyajin

www.geocities.com/vegetabulmaromance

Chapter Thirteen: Homecoming

Their eyes still on him, they rose almost as one, their faces filled with wonder. He had left them as a nine year old boy, and returned as a man; but for the Saiyan race, time had stood still. Could they even imagine all he had seen, all he had been through in the last twenty years? They could never know the things that had shaped him into the changed man he was today. For all they knew, he was no more than a grown version of the arrogant little child who had gone off to serve their oppressor. They would expect either a carbon copy of his father, as he had been groomed to be, or a maniacal disciple of the tyrant who had, in essence, raised him to adulthood. But Vegeta Ouji was neither, and they would learn that sooner or later.

They would be in for a lot of surprises.

“Hail, Prince Vegeta!” someone in the crowd called, and others joined in. The cheers were a welcome surprise considering he'd had no idea what kind of reception to expect. He nodded to the supporters in approval, scanning them quickly for any familiar face. There was none. Whom had he expected—his father? The cowardly old bastard would more likely send an assassin than openly show his contempt. Vegeta wondered if word had gotten to him of King Kold's defeat. If so, then Vegeta Ou would know that his son was wise to his plot.

If the conniving prick had any sense at all, he would be in hiding right now.

A warrior stepped forward then, an Elite by the looks of his armor, and addressed Vegeta directly. “Ouji-sama, I am Escaro, of His Majesty's Royal Guard. He has asked me and my men to escort you to the palace.”

Perhaps it was something in the man's manner that irked him, or maybe the audacity of his sire to send for him in this condescending way, but Vegeta's face hardened as he snapped, “I do not require an escort. Inform my father that I remember the way.”

The Saiyan's eyes widened in surprise, perhaps fear, as he wondered just what he would tell the King. But he bowed to his Prince and flew off. Vegeta was about to turn to Bardock when a young woman called out to him.

“Prince Vegeta! Your Majesty, I am Maiza, of the Saiyan News Service. Do you have any words for your people who have so anxiously anticipated your return?”

“Reporters, Ouji-sama,” Bardock murmured in explanation as he came to stand beside him. “Even now they are broadcasting your arrival to every continent.”

Vegeta couldn't imagine how a prophet who could foretell the future had neglected to inform him of this simple but annoying detail. It wasn't as if he had prepared some type of proclamation—in truth, he hadn't thought far beyond blasting his father into the next dimension. But his annoyance gave way to satisfaction as he realized that this might truly work to his advantage, especially if the King had been privately bad-mouthing him for the past year. He faced the young woman and her associate who held a recording device pointed at him expectantly. And Vegeta Ouji spoke as if to his people directly.

“I survived the annihilation of this world, and lived to see our race restored. I will never let anyone, friend or foe, destroy us again. The Saiyan race will reign supreme once more, but with a dignity and honor that will never again be sacrificed. That…is my vow to my people.”

The crowd had listened in silence as if in his thrall. But as soon as he had finished speaking, the cheers broke out again.

Good job, hon, Bulma thought to him with approval. The light smile on his face as her consciousness entwined itself in his seemed to reach out to his subjects as if it had been meant for them. The petite reported who had asked the question smiled brightly. “Thank you, Ouji-sama.”

The others of her profession were not so gracious. At least four others began a barrage of questions, and Vegeta held up his hand to silence them. “I have been gone from you for a very long time. I must see the King before we speak again.”

He was about to turn to the others in his party when someone called out, “Is it true, Prince Vegeta?! Are you really a Super Saiyan like Kakarot?”

Any smile faded from his face as the implication of that question ruffled his proverbial feathers. “Like Kakarot?” he enunciated, turning to the young warrior who had called out. “I am the Prince of all Saiyans, and the Legendary reborn! I have far surpassed Kakarot!”

The clown grinned sheepishly, with such modesty that Vegeta wanted to prove himself against him right then and there. “Yeah, he really beat the pants off me,” Kakarot admitted, eliciting gasps from the crowd, serving only to augment Vegeta's irritation. What kind of reputation had this moron built among the people? Did they actually think a third class warrior could ever match him?

“What about the other rumors, Prince Vegeta?” an annoying male journalist prodded foolishly. “Is it true you've taken an alien mate? Is it that girl standing behind Kakarot?”

Now it was a struggle to refrain from blasting the insolent punk on the spot as he mentally called Bulma to step forth. She did so, and he extended his arm to her, his eyes blazing with a pride and fury that dared anyone to defy him as he said, “This girl as you so impertinently refer to her is my wife and the mother of my heir. She is Princess Bulma, the Saiyan no Oujo, and anyone who fails to show her the proper respect will not live long enough to regret it.”

The reporter's face turned white as a full moon as he stammered, “I beg your forgiveness, Ouji-sama. There was no disrespect intended, Oujo-sama,” he said bowing to Bulma.

Bulma nodded graciously to the man, but her nails were pressing into his arm as she stood next to him, a clear indication of her discomfort with the whole situation. Well, she would have to get used to it. Sometimes all these people respected was pure physical force, and for now, if his own threat of retribution was the only way to garner her the safety and respect she deserved, then so be it. When they knew her, when they knew them both, things would be different. For the time being, he must deal with them in the only way that Saiyans understood.

Vegeta looked directly into the cameras as he said, “If my father has not already made it clear, allow me to now, before all of Vegeta-sei. Princess Bulma is responsible for the resurrection of our planet, and our race. There are some things in this Universe that not even a Super Saiyan can achieve…alone. The Saiyan race lives again because of her, and she is deserving of your gratitude and your loyalty.”

“Hail, Princess Bulma!” a young woman called from below. And as the chants of others began to follow, Vegeta could not help but smile as things seemed to work exactly as he'd planned.

It was unreal.

Sure, Momma and Poppa had treated her like a Princess all her life, and Vegeta, in their private moments, cherished her as a Queen. But having a crowd of Saiyans hail her as if she were royalty…

You areroyalty, woman, Vegeta reminded her silently. She glanced at his face, so handsome in that smirk that threatened to break into a real smile. He carried himself with such ease and self-confidence that no one but she knew his real anxieties right now. But Kami, she was so proud of him. He would win over his people. She knew it. He wore the role of Prince like a second skin, and she had no doubt that he would be the best King the Saiyan race had ever known. Only now, as he handled the journalists and warriors with such finesse, did she realize that acceptance of the people had never been his true concern. It was facing his father that filled him with the dread of a debt that must be paid before he could live in peace. It was clear that his people loved him, and had anticipated his return as if awaiting a savior. They wanted a change, and a second chance at life. Bulma could only wonder how his father had remained in power at all after his failure to protect his people, and his planet, from Frieza.

Don't take anything for granted, he warned her cautiously. These people will support me. But the gods alone know what my father has told those who aren't here right now.

“Ouji-sama! The baby! Will you tell us the child's name?” a female reported called out. Bulma had given Baby Trunks to his older self to hold as she had gone to stand by Vegeta's side, and she watched nervously now as the young man stepped forward at his father's gesture. Exposing herself to these paparazzi was one thing; her sons were quite another matter. Trunks could protect himself, but the baby… She forced back the panic that she knew Vegeta would sense, lest he think she doubted his ability to protect them. If only the image of her lifeless son, still painfully fresh in her mind, did not encroach upon her thoughts, intensifying her fears, making her hyper vigilant to the slightest threat…

“His name is Trunks,” Vegeta proclaimed, taking the boy and holding him up proudly. “And he has already saved my life by coming back from twenty years in the future to warn us of a plot to destroy me and my family.” For a moment Bulma thought he would reveal the truth, here and now, but she knew that Vegeta would face his father alone first. In stunned silence and confusion the crowd followed their Prince's glance to the young lavender-haired man who stood at his side in full Saiyan armor. “This,” Vegeta pronounced with no less pride, “is Prince Trunks, who came to us from twenty years hence. Here he will stay, and both boys will be my heirs.”

The young journalist was the first to recover her shock as she said, “Ouji-sama…your Majesties…would you be kind enough to explain to your people the nature of this threat, and the means by which Trunks Ouji was able to travel through time?”

Bulma could see that the young woman believed the incredible tale, but there were clearly others in the crowd who were suddenly dubious.

“Princess Bulma is a technological genius,” Vegeta said matter-of-factly, making her blush despite the truth of his words. “It was she who designed the time capsule in a future which has, thanks to my son, been avoided. As for the threat to our people, I must speak first with the King before divulging any more. But I promise you this—those who threaten Vegeta-sei or the royal family have been, and will be, punished. I will protect my people—and my family—with my dying breath.”

Cheers broke out again, and Bulma marveled once more at the utter loyalty and respect that Vegeta seemed to evoke from his people. If King Vegeta were watching this broadcast he would be shitting in his pants just about now…

Don't make me laugh, woman, I am trying to maintain a regal façade! Vegeta scolded her for her stray thoughts. She glanced to see the smile that only touched his eyes, and made a mental note to keep her mind free of distracting thoughts when her husband was speaking in public.

That would be an impossibility for you, he teased silently as he turned from the crowd. Then aloud, he said, “Bardock! Kakarot! Come. It's time we set out for the palace.”

He reached to lift her into his arms when suddenly a warrior made his way to the front of the throngs of people to call, “Ouji-sama! Wait! This is urgent!”

“Who are you?” Vegeta asked sternly, seemingly annoyed. He was done with his public appearance, and wanted to get back to the business at hand.

“I am Agurion, my Prince,” the young man said saluting. “I am an Elite in the second regiment. My father is Prime Minister Melangianes. I must speak with you before you see the King.”

Vegeta studied the man carefully. “Wouldn't it be in the best interests of Vegeta-sei if I met with my father first?” he asked.

Agurion shook his head slightly. “No, Ouji-sama. It would not.”

His response was all Vegeta needed to hear. Nevertheless, Bardock came closer to whisper, “I would suggest you speak to him, Prince Vegeta. Agurion does have the best interests of Vegeta-sei at heart.”

Bulma wasn't sure if it was something Bardock knew for a fact, or had foreseen, but Vegeta trusted Goku's father enough to change his plans. He motioned for Agurion to follow, and they made their way back into the ship.

“All right, Agurion. What is the matter you have come to discuss?”

The man took a deep breath, as if he had anticipated this moment for quite some time. “Ouji-sama, the King is your enemy. Within the Council he has been attempting to turn his Ministers against you. Word has it that he has met with the Tsiru-jin King on more than one occasion—“

“I know these things,” Vegeta admitted grimly.

“Did you also know that he has reinstituted his policy of purging planets?”

Vegeta's eyes opened wide as the awful sense of déjà vu overtook him. “What?! The fool!”

“I am sorry to have to tell you of these things, Ouji-sama. But there are those of us who do not wish to be led down the same path of destruction as before. We have heard word of you and your deeds since you defeated Lord Frieza. We believe that you can change the direction of our people for the better.”

“I have sworn to do so,” Vegeta said quietly. “Now, tell me—how many are your numbers?”

“Over five thousand,” Agurion said with a sudden twinkle of satisfaction in his eye. “But your return will only strengthen our numbers. My father tells me that the Council is split. There are those who would gladly see you replace your father.”

“And the others?” Vegeta asked. “What exactly has my father said to poison them against me?”

Agurion looked down as if afraid to repeat it aloud, but Vegeta bid him to continue. “He has said you are mad, Ouji-sama. That you are under the spell of an alien whore, and intend to put your half-breed bastard on the throne.”

Vegeta could feel his fury rising within him even as his ki crackled about him. “I will put him down like the traitorous bastard he is!” he cried, his rage so great that it would be a struggle to hold back long enough to tell the son of a bitch why he was about to die.

“No, Ouji-sama! Not yet! You must not kill the King now, or surely the people will think you mad! We are on the verge of civil war!”

“Then what would you have me do?!” he growled, wishing he had just gone to the palace in the first place as he'd planned.

“The boy is right,” Bardock broke in suddenly. “I have seen the possible outcomes of this whole mess, and you must bide your time—“

“The King is already pretending publicly to welcome you and your family on your return,” Agurion explained. “He's told my father that he wishes to let you show the people yourself how far you have strayed from the demands of Saiyan honor—“

“And what does he know of honor, Agurion?! He sent King Kold to take my mate and my son, and if Trunks had not come from the future to warn me, they would have been enslaved, I would be dead, and Vegeta-sei would be destroyed by Frieza's father. You expect me to carry on some charade, and pretend that he did not betray me?” Not just once, but twice, he thought to himself bitterly.

“Please, Ouji-sama. Just until you have given a chance for the people to see who you truly are.”

“You saw what you did to that crowd,” Bardock told him. “If even half of the people who see that broadcast are as taken with you and the Princess as these people were, then no one will question you.”

Vegeta looked at Bardock, considering his words. It made sense, and yet…it went against every instinct of honor that he had inside him. “I am no actor, Captain,” he responded finally. “It will not be an easy task to see my Father and resist blasting him into oblivion.”

“No one ever said being King was an easy task,” Bardock replied wisely.

“And what of the Princess, and Prince Trunks?” he retorted. “Am I to put them in harm's way for the sake of—“

“They'll be fine, Vegeta,” Kakarot said, his first words since the conversation had begun. “Father and I will take care of them while you're doing whatever Prince stuff you have to do.”

“Kakarot and I will accompany you to the palace as your private guards to protect the Princess and the baby,” Bardock said, restating the clown's generous but poorly worded offer.

“I don't know, it seems a hell of a lot easier just to blast him and get it over with,” Vegeta murmured, fully aware that he sounded too cold-blooded for his own comfort, yet knowing that it was his father's betrayal that had done this to him.

“Vegeta, maybe they're right,” Bulma said suddenly at his side. “You should listen to them.”

He could feel the heat of his own embarrassment as he turned to her irritably and said, “I don't recall asking your counsel, woman.”

Excuse me?! she screamed in indignation, though aloud she said nothing.

Do you wish my people to think that their future king must consult with his mate before he can make a decision?

“Ouji-sama, if your father is going to play this game, then you would be wise to do the same,” Bardock advised him, breaking the awkward silence. “He believes he is giving you enough rope to hang yourself. But in the end, his own treachery will become clear, and the people will accept you willingly.”

Vegeta breathed deeply. It was difficult to know whether Bardock's words were merely wise or truly prophetic. Trust him, Vegeta, Bulma said softly in his mind, her annoyance washed away in her empathy for his dilemma.

He looked at the men. “Fine. I'll do it. But the moment he moves against my family, he's a dead man.”

Agurion had taken his leave, and Vegeta knew that the time had come to face his demon. His father would have seen the newscasts by now, as would have everyone. It occurred to him that Agurion had placed himself in danger by contacting him openly.Those blasted cameras had captured his approach and departure as surely as they were waiting for the Prince and his party to exit their ship. Vegeta would remember the man's loyalty, and the risk he had taken to warn him.

Bulma had said little to him since his outburst, but her silence, both verbally and telepathically, spoke volumes. She had gone to change the baby again before their journey to the palace, and he found her in the private quarters that had been theirs during their voyage. He came up behind her as she placed the baby on the bed, resting his hands on her upper arms and burying his face in her neck. She was trying her best to ignore him, but he could sense her body responding as he planted soft kisses on her shoulder. “Are you still angry with me?” he whispered in her ear, taking in her essence and feeling the bundle of nerves in his stomach slowly untangling in the comfort of their closeness.

“Of course not, Ouji-sama,” she replied with feigned subservience.

“Don't mock me, woman,” he chastised tenderly as he turned her to face him. In relief he could see the forgiveness in her eyes, and knew she was just teasing him. “I'm sorry,” he said softly, taking her face in his hands. “In private you may speak to me as you wish—and you generally do,” he added with a smirk. “But I must not be perceived as weak in any way. My father would take any opportunity to prove that I am under your utter control, and as such unfit to be King.”

“You're more than fit to be King,” she murmured as he brought his lips to hers.

And you havecast a spell over me, he teased her, relishing her taste. But let's just keep that to ourselves, all right?

She giggled in his mind, but when they had separated her expression grew serious. “I miss the way things were on Namek,” she said wistfully, caressing his cheek. “ When you didn't have to be a Prince. When you could just be my Vegeta.”

“I still am yours,” he promised her, though he too missed the freedom of being himself rather than what he was expected to be. “And you are mine. That will not change.”

He kissed her again, then lifted his son into his arms. “Come. Let's get this over with.”

The journalists were still there, and annoying as Vegeta was finding it, he knew now that it could work to his advantage. Maiza, the young woman from the Saiyan News Service, had not given up her vigil and to Vegeta's surprise made her way over to his older son.

“Trunks Ouji! There are hundreds of thousands of young female warriors out there who are anxious to know—do you have a mate?” The girl herself looked desperately interested, and Vegeta had to keep from laughing out loud as his son's face grew crimson.

“Um, no, I mean—not yet…” Trunks stammered. The murmurs of approval from young women in the crowd only served to embarrass him more.

“Trunks, you can choose a mate later. We need to get to the palace.” Vegeta's voice was firm, but a twitch of his lip belied his amusement.

“Yes, Father,” the young man said gratefully, coming to his side.

Bulma gave him a sideways glance as she warned, No one is going near my little boy unless I approve of her first!

As Vegeta lifted her and the baby into his arms to fly them to the palace, he could only be thankful that Bulma had had enough sense not to make that comment out loud.

The journalists, and the Saiyan Elite, would have had a field day.

It was like a scene from a fairy tale.

Bulma had never imagined the royal grounds to be so immense, seeming more like a theme park than the residence even of a King. She was used to expansive property—the Briefs home was but a small part of the Capsule Corp complex. But this—it was huge. The castle itself was the size of a shopping mall, with gorgeous domes and turrets carved from a reddish granite-like stone. The palace grounds were surrounded with blue lakes and lush, colorful gardens that seemed incongruous with the Spartan image she had of the Saiyans, who seemed less interested in aesthetic beauty than functionality. Various buildings surrounded the main palace, probably servants quarters and government offices, so that the King would not have to stray far from home to attend to the business of the day. In essence, it was a small city, a self-sufficient unit not unlike a University campus. Bulma held tightly to the baby as she felt her husband's thoughts, a mixture of excitement and dread. He was glad to be home, but until he had settled the score with his father, he would not be at peace. She leaned against him, letting her love wash over him. You can do this, Vegeta, she told him silently. I have faith in you.

He looked down at her, letting his lips brush gently against her forehead, a last moment of open tenderness before they would be surrounded by others once more. When they set down at the palace gates, a royal guard ran out to meet them, bowing.

“Prince Vegeta, I have been requested to bring your party in for an audience with the King.”

Vegeta nodded to the man, releasing her as Bardock and Goku came to her side. Stay close to them both, he warned her as Trunks set down beside his father.

They followed the guard through a long dimly lit hallway, past walls covered with ornate tapestries and portraits of Vegeta-sei's rulers from as far back as before the overthrow of the Tsifuru-jins to create this new Saiyan home world. As they neared the King's throne room, and the portraits became modern, Bulma took in a breath as she saw the image of a beautiful woman with raven hair dressed in a shimmering gold gown. Beside her stood the man whom Bulma despised most in the entire Universe.

Vegeta paused thoughtfully before the portrait, his eyes misting over with the regret of never having known the woman in the painting. “Trunks, that was your grandmother,” he told his son somberly.

“She was beautiful,” Bulma said quietly. Gods, she knew how much it hurt Vegeta to have never even met her. She remembered his fear of losing her in childbirth, and his panic and despair when she had gone into that long sleep. She couldn't help but wonder how different he would have been had this woman lived to raise him.

“She was a brilliant, compassionate woman,” Bardock commented, adding fuel to her thoughts. “Much like you, Princess.”

Bulma flushed at the comparison, and Vegeta gave her a faint smile with his eyes, telling her he believed it to be true. “I…I'm sorry I never met her,” she said stupidly, realizing at once that had been a mistake, as her husband added grimly,

“So am I.”

He turned back towards the throne room. “Let's go.”

Bulma followed silently, knowing somehow that things would not have been like this had Vegeta's mother lived. She wasn't sure how she had come to that conclusion from merely glancing at a portrait, but something told her it was so.

Vegeta braced himself to step through the doors of the throne room with the same anxiety as he had had as a boy. In those days, if his father had summoned him it had usually meant he had done something wrong. In his father's eyes, he knew that was the case today. The king had warned him against bringing his family to Vegeta-sei. Twenty years ago, such a warning would have frightened him. But his father was no match for him now. In hand to hand combat, Vegeta would easily defeat him, and the old bastard knew that. So this was different. It was a contest of strategy, of wits, to see who could win the favor of the people. Vegeta had no patience for such games, and would rather settle this in the old-fashioned way. But if he was to be king, he would need to learn the art of politics and diplomacy, even the distasteful and dishonorable skill of deception. Power was not enough. His father had proved that, and so had King Kold.

He held his head high as he walked down the long red carpet, the guards flanking on either side bowing as he came past. When he reached his father, the King stood from his throne, his face devoid of any emotion. “So. You have returned. And I see you've brought your little family.”

“My place is here, and theirs is at my side,” he stated plainly. “There was no other alternative, although my enemies would have it otherwise.”

The King raised an eyebrow, knowing damn well that he himself was the most prominent of Vegeta's enemies. But he replied, “Yes, I heard you defeated King Kold. Very impressive, my boy. Others will hesitate before crossing you.”

“As they should,” Vegeta said darkly.

“Yes,” his father murmured absently as he turned his attention to Trunks, eyeing him warily. “I have seen the broadcasts, and am quite interested to hear about this future that your `son' comes from.”

“It's not important,” Vegeta said quickly. “The threat has been averted, and Trunks will remain with us now.”

Vegeta Ou glanced from the young man to the baby in Bulma's arms, as if looking for the resemblance. “He still doesn't look like a Saiyan,” he said disparagingly.

“But he fights like one,” Vegeta supplied quickly. “His strength is second only to mine, and if you wish he will face any Elite in combat to prove his superiority.”

Vegeta Ou nodded his head slowly as if impressed. “And who trained you, Trunks?” the King challenged him, clearly trying to glean more of the future from whence he had come.

“My father has been my sensei since I came here,” Trunks replied cleverly. “He's taught me everything I know.”

Good boy, Vegeta projected to his son.

“So you, too, are a Super Saiyan?” the King challenged dubiously.

“He's gone far beyond that,” Vegeta boasted proudly to his father. “And so have I.”

Vegeta Ou was thoughtful for a moment, then replied, “That was some show you put on shattering their scouters. I'm just surprised you didn't both go Super Saiyan.”

“There was no need,” Vegeta responded with confidence. “Rest assured, father, when the time comes, we will both be prepared to stretch our power to the limits.”

“Is that a challenge?” the King asked.

“No, Father, not at all,” Vegeta said and laughed. “Why would I wish to challenge you? I've only come back to get reacquainted with my people.”

He knew his father didn't believe a word he said, but for now, there was no more to discuss. “Well, then,” he said, dismissing them. “Frijol will take you to your suite in the southern wing. Your old rooms have been prepared for you. The slaves will see to your needs. And tomorrow, we will have a grand gala to welcome you back in royal style. There you may present your family to your people.”

“I look forward to it, Ottoussama,” Vegeta replied, glad that the interview was over.

“One thing, Vegeta. Will Bardock and Kakarot be staying with your party?”

“Bardock is my private counsel,” he replied, “and Kakarot…” Somehow calling him an advisor was too ludicrous a lie to even attempt.

“He's like a brother to me, Ou-sama,” Bulma broke in to save the moment. “I've requested he stay with us.”

She had such nerve to address the King so directly, especially when he had barely acknowledged her presence. Vegeta smirked as he glanced at her. Why had he ever doubted her ability to stand up to his father?

“He is also my sparring partner,” Vegeta added. “If I were to train with any of the Elites, I would destroy them as easily as if they were Saibamen. “

“Very well, then,” the King said, eyeing them all warily, but sitting back on his throne as an indication that they were dismissed. “I shall see you at the gala tomorrow night. Until then, I have instructed the servants and slaves to attend to all your needs.”

When they had left the throne room, Bulma pulled him by the arm and whispered, “Slaves? Did he say you have `slaves'?”

Vegeta shifted uncomfortably, averting her eyes to shield his shame. “Slavery is legal in our society, Bulma. It's not something that can be changed overnight.”

“Fine. Take a week, if you have to,” she replied mirthlessly. “But you know as well as I do that enslaving other people is wrong.”

He didn't answer. He couldn't. There was no way he would voice aloud that he knew all too well. Hadn't he himself lived as a slave for years, tortured by a cruel and sadistic master?

“Let's get settled in,” he told the party as he strode purposefully towards the south wing. No more was said as he led them to the place that had been his whole world for the first eight years of his life.

Little had changed, and yet, it was all so different through the eyes of a man. The ghosts of the past seemed to assault him as he walked into the foyer of what was, in essence, a private apartment within the palace. To the left were the bedrooms, the largest of which had been his, the smaller three occupied by his servants and personal guards. To the right, a huge dining room, with the elegant table and chairs that had seemed so enormous years ago, but now could comfortably seat those in his entourage. Through the dining room was the kitchen, a miniature version of his father's, but certainly big enough to prepare a meal for several hungry Saiyans. Through the kitchen were the slaves' and servants' quarters, though Bulma's remark about how glad she was to see them empty reminded him of the awkward situation that he would have to deal with sooner or later.

“What's through there?” she asked pointing to a door straight ahead.

“My training chamber,” he said, not without some fondness. “My father taught me how to fly there, and Nappa sparred with me until I bloodied him so that he had them send for Saibamen instead.”

“This place is enormous,” Bulma commented, peeking into the master bedroom. “I can't believe this whole suite was just for a child.”

“Gee, Bulma, and we thought you were a spoiled brat,” Kakarot teased her.

“I was not spoiled,” she retorted. “I was privileged.”

“I grew up in a house smaller than that dining room,” Kakarot replied.

“I never would have known,” Vegeta remarked dryly.

“Hey, is that an insult?”

Vegeta ignored him as he considered the logistics of their lodging. “Bulma and I will stay in the Master Bedroom with the baby. The three of you can choose whichever rooms you like. If I need to leave, at least two of you will stay with Bulma and the baby at all times. No one is to enter the suite without my express clearance and permission. That goes for sl—servants too,” he said, catching himself.

“I hope they stocked the fridge,” Kakarot said with his typical concern over his stomach.

“Don't worry, Goku,” Bulma told him. “I encapsulated most of the supplies that were left on the ship.” Vegeta looked at her, impressed with her forethought, and she added, “I don't want anyone preparing my food or the baby's just yet.”

“A wise idea, Princess,” Bardock said darkly. “There are enemies in this palace.”

“Not the least of which is my father,” Vegeta murmured. He cursed himself for the momentary lapse into nostalgia, the memories of a father who had trained and taught him. It had all been a lie, and only now with hindsight could he see that there had never been any real feeling, any real love, between them. He had respected his father and feared him. He had admired and looked up to him. And his father had betrayed him utterly. As the father of a son—no, two sons now—he knew that there was no excuse for what his father had done. The confines of this space seemed suddenly claustrophobic as the past seemed too powerful to ignore.

A hand on his arm, and he turned to see Bulma, her blue eyes filled with a knowing concern. “I'll go get the baby settled in,” she told him, but in her mind whispered, It's all right. We'll make new memories.

He nodded, sufficiently stirred from his depression. Gods, what would he ever do without her? He prayed he would never have to find out.

“Now I know why you complained about our bathtub.”

Bulma could not believe the sheer size of the bathing pool that seemed more like the swimming pool on the Capsule Corp compound. The crystal clear water was probably four feet deep at the shallow end, and the pool itself was probably ten feet wide and twice as long. Vegeta had abandoned his clothes on the floor, and sat now with his muscular arms stretched out and his head leaned back to rest on the edge. Even with the refraction of light through the water, his naked form was perfect, and she regretted not having to lie against him to bathe together. He opened his eyes and looked up at her devilishly as he said, “You still can, you know. What, were you thinking of bathing on the opposite side?”

She smirked at him as she slowly pulled off her clothes, deliberately taking her time to tease him. Her breasts free, she caressed them, watching his arousal react on its own. Gods, he was so big, and just the thought of him sliding into her made her grow moist. She was about to slip off her panties when a hand grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her into the water.

“Vegeta! What the hell—?!” she yelled as soon as she coughed up the water that she'd nearly swallowed.

He left his spot, standing to pull her against him. “That will teach you not to tease me, woman,” he said wickedly, holding her bottom with both hands to position her just right. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, rubbing herself against his rock-hard erection. Gods, even underwater she could feel her juices flowing in her desire for him. Burying his face in her breasts, he began to taste her nipples, making her shiver in the warm water. Then, ever so gently, the familiar softness that was his tail began to inch its way between them, tickling her inner thighs and feathering against the folds of her womanhood. It never ceased to amaze her how precisely he could control the most subtle of movements with his beautiful appendage. As if in answer to her thoughts, the tip of his tail dipped into her warm core, stroking her gently. She moaned in pleasure as his hands, his lips and his silky tail reached every erogenous zone on her body at once, setting her on fire even as he held her in the water. Suddenly, he withdrew his tail, and as she opened her mouth to protest, it was covered in his kisses. Then, as he lifted her carefully to mount him, she knew that he could hold himself back no longer. I need to be inside you… he moaned in her mind, then gasped in delight as she took in his full length.

Now it was her time to drive him insane, riding him hard as she clenched her sex around him, loving the way he moaned aloud each time she embraced him from within. The fire within her was blazing out of control now, burning her insides with the sweet sensation of Vegeta filling her completely. Then, as she felt the first warning of her passion about to explode, it was there again, his tail, coming between them to brush against her sensitive nub. Her mouth broke away from his as she cried out his name, clinging to him tightly as wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through her. Caught in her rapture, he erupted inside her violently, cradling her in his arms even as his spirit wrapped itself around hers.

For a long time he held her, though as she heard him think that his knees were growing weak, she smiled and forced herself to stand. Still he would not release her, holding her against him, wishing that this moment could last forever, that he could escape from his duties, his responsibilities, and the anguish of what he must do…

“Shhhhhhhh,” she whispered, stroking his face, his hair, and kissing him on the lips. “Don't think about it now. Tonight's just for us.”

He smiled weakly at her, wrapping his arms around her, his tail joining in the embrace. “Woman, if this happens every time we bathe I shall never make it out of our living quarters.”

“I can always let you bathe alone,” she offered with wide-eyed innocence.

“You wouldn't do that to me,” he said huskily, kissing her neck.

“Um, is there even real bath stuff in here? You know, soap, towels….?”

He kissed her again, then reached for the panel at the side of the pool, pressing a white button. Soap bubbles began to filter into the water through an opening at each corner.

“Wow, this is so cool!” she squealed, as excited as a little girl seeing her first bubbles blown.

She wasn't the one to make the first attack, but when Vegeta began smoothing her body with bubbles, and decided to see how she would look with soapsuds on her nose, she had to retaliate. She put huge globs of white foam on his hair, covering it completely. “Hey, Vegeta, you know what you are now?”

“Extremely aroused?” he mused, more conscious of what she had done to the lower part of his body.

“Besides that,” she said, pointing to his white mane of hair. “A `SoaperSaiyan'!”

“Ugh,” he groaned, though she could see the amusement in his eyes. “You must stop spending time with Kakarot; you're developing his inane sense of humor.”

She giggled, reaching down below his waist to caress the soap over his most sensitive areas. “There, does that make up for it?” she cooed.

“Oh, yes….” he said in a hushed whisper as he leaned against the pool side to enjoy her ministrations.

“Wanna dry off and take this to the bedroom?” she suggested as she rubbed up and down his length.

He sighed. “I would love to, but…”

“But what?” She looked at him curiously.

“No, don't stop, please…”

“So finish your sentence,” she warned playfully, cupping his balls in her hand.

“The room's not sound-proofed…if I recall…” he managed, his eyes still closed.

“Really? And what were you doing as a little boy that you didn't want anyone to hear?”

She'd asked it as a joke, but as he lifted his head and looked at her, she knew it was not a pleasant memory she'd evoked.

“It's not what I was doing. But what I heard. Nappa…had the room next to mine. Almost nightly I would hear him with the pleasure slaves…”

“Oh, gross,” she said, the image being too disgusting to conjure.

Vegeta seemed equally disturbed as he went on, his eyes gazing into a past that seemed to have been revived by his very presence in this place. “I was too young at first to know what was going on. But I would hear young women screaming, and crying…It would go on until they were silent. And when the screaming stopped….I knew they were dead.”

“Oh, Kami…” she murmured. No wonder Vegeta had been so afraid the first time he had touched her. What effect must that horror have had on a small boy?

“He had a sick penchant for virgins…and somehow he would always bribe the guards to bring them to him. Once, I walked in and saw just as this poor girl uttered her last cry. She was little more than a child. I made the mistake of telling my father.” He looked at her, shuddering with the memory. “The sick fuck just laughed,” he said with disgust. “He said that was all the females of weakling races were good for.”

The words rang painfully familiar. “I guess that explains his problem with me,” she commented.

Vegeta's dark eyes opened wide as he realized that she had taken personally his father's heartless comments. He took her face in his hands, gazing into her eyes intently. “My father could never understand what you mean to me. That you are my strength…my life. Never forget that, Bulma, because I would be lost without you.”

The sudden intensity of his emotions was more than she had expected, and it brought tears to her eyes. “Oh, Vegeta…” she whispered, unable to say more. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him…how she would die if she ever lost him…how she considered herself the luckiest woman in the Universe to have the love of her beautiful prince…how just the sight of him made her heart flutter with joy…that wrapped in the blissful peace of his embrace she felt safer and more loved than she had ever imagined possible…

But the words would be so insufficient…

She kissed him deeply, willing the demons that had awoken in this place to flee from him forever. And as their spirits rested together entwined in their bond, she knew that she didn't have to tell him these things aloud.

He already knew.

He'd made love to her again, gently, tenderly, then wrapped her in a towel and carried her back to their bed. Words had not passed between them this time. For words were so unnecessary when the ties of their bond became so intense. Even she had realized, perhaps for the first time, how insufficient words could be to express the complexities of the heart and soul. His feelings for her had spilt forth in language that for him was difficult. But she was not a natural telepath. It had meaning to her, and it gave him immeasurable pleasure to have touched her so in a way that was important to her. But as she had found herself at a loss for those overrated verbal assertions, she had unintentionally projected to him the pure, raw emotions that meant far more to him than anything she could have said. To hear of the depth of her feeling in that sweet voice was bliss. But to feel it from her was sheer rapture. The water of the bathing pool had disguised his tears. But she had felt the quiver of his lips as he had kissed her, and the trembling of his body as he had taken her again. Even now, as she lay asleep in his arms, he need only close his eyes to join her in her dreams. She was right. Here, on his home world, in the palace where he had been raised without the love that was so natural to others, they would create their own memories. And his infant son would know a better life than he had had…

Vegeta nearly jumped out of his skin as the loud buzzer announced a visitor to their private suit. “Who the hell can that be?” he complained irritably as he sat up in bed. At his side, Bulma stirred from her deep slumber and reached out sleepily to pull him back down.

“Let Goku see who it is,” she murmured, her hands so warm on his skin that they made him shiver.

Maybe she was right. After all, he could sense no powerful ki to speak of. Surely Kakarot could handle this…he was probably awake in the kitchen anyway. Succumbing to her invitation, he let himself fall back down on the bed, gathering her in his arms, though his sensitive Saiyan hearing strained to listen to what was going on in the outer rooms.

He was about to drift off when he heard voices arguing loudly. A knock at their door, and Trunks' voice revealed that he too had been awakened by the disturbance. “Father, I'm sorry to bother you, but I think you should take care of this.”

Cursing, he rose and pulled on a pair of black training pants while Bulma covered herself with her long silk robe. Making sure she was decent, he pressed the combination to unlock their door, and was greeted by his son's thoroughly embarrassed face.

“Dad, we told them to leave, but the King's guard insisted,” he apologized.

“What is it?” Bulma said, coming up behind him.

Trunks grew crimson. “Um, Mom, maybe it would be better if you stayed in here…”

“Don't be ridiculous, Trunks, what's going on?” she replied, taking Vegeta by the arm.

In reply, Trunks stepped aside and Vegeta knew at once what had so utterly embarrassed the boy.

Standing behind one of his father's royal guards, were two young women—no, children—dressed in nothing more than a sheer chiffon gown that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Vegeta's shock turned to disgust as he realized what these two unfortunate creatures were. Bulma's gasp made it clear that she was well aware what was going on.

“A gift for you, Your Highness,” the guard said with an envious leer. “From your father, the King. To honor your return. Two pleasure slaves, fresh from his latest conquest. He has sent you virgins so that you may break them in as you like. Would you like me to leave them in the slave quarters?” he asked, indicating the rooms that had been thankfully empty until now.

“Are you kidding?!” Bulma cried out in indignation.

“I'm sorry, Ouji-sama,” Bardock apologized, making Vegeta's humiliation mount as he realized that not only his wife and son, but Bardock and Kakarot had also been witness to this spectacle. “The guard would not leave until he had delivered the King's…gift.”

Vegeta's face was hot with his embarrassment and rage as he barked, “Get them out of here, now! And inform my father that I am in no need of pleasure slaves, virgin or otherwise!”

The Saiyan looked truly confused. “But, my Prince…would you prefer experienced--?”

Vegeta raised his palm in fury as a tiny ball of ki began to form. “You heard me! Now take them away, and tell my father—“

The guard dropped to his knees. “My apologies, Ouji-sama.” He glanced fearfully at Bulma, and said, “Perhaps I should have brought them by when the Princess was not here…But it is the custom…”

“I don't give a damn about the custom!” Vegeta snarled. “Just take them away at once, and never presume to bring another pleasure slave to me again!”

“As you wish, Ouji-sama,” the man said, rising. “But I fear your father's response. Are you sure one of your men would not like to keep them?”

He glanced at Bardock, and the warrior replied, “I am not in the habit of bedding children, you depraved son of a bitch.”

The guard looked at Trunks, who was trying to avert his gaze from the nearly naked young women. “Perhaps Prince Trunks…?”

“Absolutely not!” Bulma broke in fiercely.

Trunks shook his head. “Uh, no thanks.”

Vegeta walked up to the guard, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him in the air. “Perhaps I didn't make myself clear? Take them away!!”

The guard dropped to the floor, grasping for breath and clutching his throat. “If I may suggest…I will take them to your warriors as garrison whores, then. I will tell them it is a gift from their prince…”

“You will not insult my honor by making such a perverse offering in my name!” he roared. He could smell the fear emanating from the two young girls, and the look of utter terror on their faces only made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Then what shall I do with them, your Highness?” the guard asked in desperation. Clearly he would be punished if Vegeta did not accept his father's gift.

Suddenly, the younger of the two girls was at his feet, crying hysterically. “Please, Prince Vegeta! Do not send us back to your father! My sister and I have heard of what he does to young virgin slaves! I beg you, show us mercy and kill us now rather than send us to him or his warriors!”

Vegeta's rage turned into sick horror as he looked down at the little girl who begged at his feet. Gods, she was probably no older than Pota… Once more he realized the desperation that had driven Rossdark to betray him to save his little girl from a similar fate.

“Vegeta,” Bulma said quietly, coming to stand beside him. “You can't let them hurt these girls…There must be something you can do…”

The slave question had been suddenly brought before him in all its horror, and all contemplation of how he might free those who had already been enslaved was now irrelevant as he stood with the power to save these two innocents from becoming just two more of his father's victims.

He looked at the guard. “I want you to secure them safe passage back to their home planet.”

Through his shock, the guard regretfully told him, “I'm sorry, Ouji-sama, but they are from Creas-sei. Your father himself led the purge against their planet two weeks ago. They are the sole survivors.”

The burning in the pit of his stomach blazed into an inferno. He wanted to throw up right then and there, but knew he could not. He looked down at the child at his feet, then over at her older sister, deep sorrow in his eyes. “Come here, girl,” he said to the elder, and motioned for the younger to stand. He purposely gazed into their faces, knowing they were humiliated to stand before him, before all the men, like this. “I can not change what my father has done, and you will never know how much I regret that. For now, all I can do is protect you. Do you…have experience with infants? Caring for children?”

The girls nodded, hope springing in their eyes. “Yes, Prince Vegeta. We both do,” the older one said, her face growing suddenly dark as she thought of the home that was no more. “We have…we had three younger brothers. We were always caring for them.”

Vegeta glanced at Bulma, who already knew what he had in mind, and she nodded her approval. He turned to the guard. “Take them to find some decent clothes, and bring them back here in the morning. They will be of great use to the Princess in the care of my infant son. But not as slaves. They will stay here with us as our paid servants, until such time as they wish to leave.” He turned to the girls, whose tear-filled eyes were filled with astonished relief. “Is this arrangement suitable to you? And will you swear loyalty to me, the Princess, and the young Prince?”

“Yes, your Highness,” the older girl wept, incredulous but grateful. “I swear eternal loyalty to you and your family. Thank you!”

“Me too, Ouji-sama,” the younger girl echoed, embarrassing him thoroughly as she instinctively hugged his legs.

“Take them to find some proper attire,” he instructed the guard. “And let no one touch them, or your life will be forfeit.”

Still astonished, the guard obediently ushered the girls from the suite, and Bardock set the combination to lock the door behind them.

“That sick son of a bitch!” Vegeta ranted. “I should kill him right now, Bardock, and end this charade!”

“In due time, Ouji-sama,” Bardock said calmly. “Unfortunately, this is nothing new in our society, and you must know that.”

“Well, it has to change,” Bulma said angrily. “Slaves? Garrison whores? Really!! You call yourselves an advanced society, but have no respect whatsoever for women or for anyone who is not Saiyan!”

“Change takes time,” Bardock told her gently. “But it must come from above, before it is forced from below.”

“I will not allow these atrocities to go on,” Vegeta swore. “Any more than I will allow him to begin purging planets again as he did in the past! I thought it was Frieza who drove us to do these things! What excuse does my father have now that the Kold Empire no longer controls us?”

“His own arrogance and force of habit,” Trunks broke in. “He can't see any other way of doing things. Didn't you say he was the one who took this very planet from the Tsifuru-jin race?”

“Our past is filled with destruction and imperialism,” Bardock responded.

“But our future does not have to be.” Vegeta breathed deeply. “We are a warrior race. But that does not mean we have to destroy everything that comes in our path. Nor treat less powerful races as slaves.”

“Your people will not all be so easily convinced,” Bardock warned him. “But you know that some, like Agurion and his men, are more enlightened. And you must not underestimate the import of what you have just done. By showing mercy to those two young girls, and taking them into your household as paid servants, you will send ripples throughout the world. If the slave population knows that you mean to free them, they will be loyal to you and support your followers.”

Vegeta had not been thinking of all those implications. He had merely wanted to spare the life of those two children who had had everything taken away from them by his own father.

Later, as he lay once more with his woman in his arms, he said suddenly, “I hope you do not mind my solution. You would have needed personal servants at some point anyway—“

“It's fine,” she assured him. “They seem like nice girls, and you can be sure they will be indebted to you for saving them. We can trust them. I know it.”

He nodded. He felt the same.

“I'm very proud of you, you know,” she told him a few moments later. “You showed real compassion. I know that you have it in you to be a great King. And I think that soon everyone else will know too.”

“As long as I have my Queen by my side,” he whispered, and brought his lips to hers.

“Okay, Trunks-kun, it's time for breakfast,” Bulma cooed to her little boy as she lifted him into her arms. She'd heard the baby stirring and had gotten up first, while Vegeta had continued to snore away. It wasn't like him to sleep late, but, she thought smiling to herself, she must have really worn him out last night. The truth was, he was emotionally and physically exhausted, and with that grand ball to face tonight, she would let him get all the sleep he could.

She pressed the buttons to unlock their quarters, and walked out to find the older Trunks in the sitting room deep in conversation with the girls from last night. Of course, they had been given proper clothes, and seemed a great deal more relaxed. Once more she took pride in her husband and the compassion he had shown them.

When the young women saw her they jumped from the couch where they had been seated talking to Trunks, and fell to their knees, almost as if in fright. Bulma shook her head. “No, girls, you don't have to do that,” she said gently as she walked over to them. “Come on, why don't you sit down where you were, and tell me your names.”

Surprised but seemingly calmed, the girls gingerly took their seats back on the couch.

“You have nothing to be afraid of here,” she promised them, sitting across from them.

“They've been through a lot, Mom,” Trunks told him, the look in his eyes telling her that he felt their pain.

“I know,” she said, nodding slowly. “And I'm really sorry to hear that. So is Prince Vegeta. But you're safe now. So, why don't you tell me your names? And your ages?”

“I'm Cordera,” the eldest of the two spoke. “And I'm sixteen standard years old.”

“I'm Arnaki,” the little one piped up, much more at ease. “I'm ten.”

Bulma smiled. “I'm pleased to meet you. I'm, er, Princess Bulma,” she said, remembering that at the very least they had to use her title, awkward as it was. “And this,” she said, turning the baby towards them so they could see his face, “is Trunks.”

The girls oohed and aahed and the baby gave them a wide grin. Good. He liked them. Already her mind had begun to work on how the girls might be able to occupy Trunks while she worked in the lab that Vegeta had told her she could set up in one of the spare rooms of the servants' quarters. “Would you like to hold him?” she asked them.

“Oh, please, let me,” Cordera offered, the first real light in her eyes since Bulma had first seen her. The baby was hesitant at first, but Bulma coaxed him, telling him it was okay, and he finally grabbed onto Cordera's neck. Bulma could see by the way she held him that the young woman truly did have experience with babies, and it eased her own concerns.

Arnaki seemed equally delighted with little Trunks, and Bulma let them all get acquainted for a few minutes, thinking that Vegeta would be pleased to see that his plan was working out. Suddenly, Arnaki had a puzzled expression on her face and turned to the elder Trunks. “Prince Trunks, why do you and your little brother have the same name? Isn't that silly?”

Cordera threw her sister a warning glance, and said, “Arnaki! Don't be rude!”

Trunks quickly jumped in, “No, Cordera, it's okay. It would be silly. Trunks isn't exactly my little brother. He's…uh…me.”

Bulma supplied the awkward answer. “Trunks came to us from the future to warn us of…danger, that would have caused his father to die.” She didn't exactly want to reveal the rest of what had happened in Trunks' time, and she could see her son's relief that she did not.

“Both of my parents are gone in my time,” Trunks said solemnly, then looked up at his younger mother and smiled lightly. “Mom and Dad invited me to stay with them.”

“Because this is where you belong,” Bulma made sure to add warmly.

“That is so nice!” Arnaki said softly. “But Prince Trunks, how did you get here from the future? So you mean Saiyans have the ability to travel through time?”

Trunks grinned. “Only Saiyans with a brilliant mother from Earth. Mom designed and built the ship for me.”

The girls looked at Bulma in wonder. “Princess Bulma, that is extraordinary!” Cordera exclaimed. “I did not know you were a scientist.”

“Cordera studied science in school,” Arnaki told her. “She's really a genius.”

The girl blushed. “Hush, Arnaki. I wouldn't go that far.”

“Hm, it seems like maybe you can help me more than Vegeta thought,” Bulma said, her mind racing. “I'm going to be setting up a lab in one of those spare rooms. I had figured you could watch the baby while I work, but maybe your mind would be put to a lot better use as a lab assistant.”

“I would love that, Princess!” the girl replied excitedly. “But certainly I can do both. Between Arnaki and myself, we can care for Prince Trunks and help you out in your work.”

Bulma nodded, satisfied. “Good. Sounds like a plan.” It was heart-warming to see these girls, whose lives had been forfeit just hours ago, enthused about something. Who knew? Maybe the Creas-sei-jin had some technology she could combine with her own. She stood from her seat. “Okay, now that that's decided, why don't I show you what we've got in the kitchen. Trunks needs his breakfast, and so will Prince Vegeta when he wakes up.”

“I'm a great cook!” Arnaki boasted.

Bulma chuckled. “Good. You have no idea how important that is to a family of Saiyans!”

Vegeta awoke, alarmed at first when he found himself alone, then calmed as he sensed the familiar ki of his family in the next room. Cursing himself for sleeping so late, he bathed quickly and dressed in his more casual armor, a black bodysuit and sleeveless breast plate that Bulma had designed for him in Saiyan style. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he thought of the far more enjoyable bathing experience he had had last night. The bathing pool was enormous, but seemed even more so as he sat in it by himself. He supposed it was just as well, though, that he was alone. If he and his woman were to get started again, he might never make it out of his quarters today.

He found them in the dining room, Trunks and Bulma engaged in lively conversation while the baby chomped on rare meat, his favorite breakfast. Bulma smiled brightly as he sat next to her at the head of the table, and he looked down to see the huge meal whose aroma had tempted him from the moment he'd stepped into the room.

I felt you wake up, so I had the girls prepare this for you so you wouldn't have to wait.

He was about to ask who the girls were, when their presence in the room reminded him of the awkward intrusion of the night before. The two young women looked vastly different; dressed in respectable clothes, they were understandably far more at ease than they had been last night. They were even smiling as they walked into the room, but he felt their ki spike with anxiety as they saw him. That would not do. He wanted to instill fear in his enemies. Not in two little girls whom his father had orphaned. The two fell to their knees in subservience, and he walked over to them. “This is not necessary,” he told them. “In public you may bow your heads in respect if you like, but this pomp is not needed within my household. You are servants, not slaves, and you will be treated with dignity.”

Slowly the girls stood up, and he felt their heartbeats slow from the pounding of only moments before. They were actually pretty young women, with dark hair and green eyes that could have been Saiyan. It sickened him to think of the innocence that his father would have destroyed in them had he not intervened. The suffering they had already endured was too great to even contemplate.

“Thank you, Ouji-sama,” the eldest girl said. “We can never repay you for the compassion you and your family have shown us.”

“And I can never restore what my father has taken from you,” he admitted much to his shame.

“You're not like him at all, Prince Vegeta!” the younger girl said. “And the Princess and Prince Trunks are so nice! And the baby is so cute!”

Vegeta did not try to repress the smile that came to his lips at the little girl's words. Why should he? He owed them at least his honesty and kindness.

“We are in your debt, Prince Vegeta,” the older girl added. “We owe you our very lives.”

“All I ask of you is your loyalty,” Vegeta said seriously.

“That you have, Ouji-sama,” she replied with equal solemnity.

“I have many enemies here, even within the palace,” he said grimly. “What you hear within these walls you must never repeat. Other servants or slaves in the palace might try to befriend you for information, but they could very likely turn out to be spies.”

“I don't think any of the other servants want to be friends with us,” the little girl said very wisely. “They didn't act very nice when they found out you had made us the Princess' private servants.”

“They are simply jealous,” he confided in her, impressed by her astuteness. “And what is your name, child?”

“Arnaki,” she said. “And my sister's name is Cordera.”

“I am grateful for your service,” Vegeta told them. He sat down again, anxious to get to his meal, but looked up at the young women once more. “You will do whatever Princess Bulma asks of you.” He smirked. “She can be a bit demanding, but I am sure she will not ask of much of you as she does of me.”

“Very funny,” Bulma countered, and he knew that she was refraining from slapping him on the arm. The girls giggled, and he was glad to see that their spirits had not been completely broken.

“Actually, Vegeta, they're wonderful. They cooked us this breakfast, from our own supplies, of course, fed Trunks, changed him—“

“That could be a full time job in itself,” he murmured, wondering if the girls had been the victim of his signature attack.

“And the best part,” Bulma was continuing excitedly, “is that Cordera studied engineering, and is brilliant. She'll make a terrific lab assistant once I get things set up.”

Vegeta nodded, impressed by the girl's credentials as well as her cooking. It pleased him to no end to know that he had saved her from the fate his father had chosen for her. “Good. I'm glad this seems to be working out well.” He drank down his coffee, once more thankful that his woman had introduced him to this stimulant. After last night, it would take effort to stay awake.

“There's only one thing I insist upon, Cordera,” he told the girl, setting his cup down. “You must never allow anyone access to the baby unless Trunks, Bardock, Kakarot or I are present. He's not to leave this suite without one of us.” He turned to Bulma. “And neither are you.” Her mouth opened to protest, but he added, “For the time being I don't trust anyone around any of you.” He breathed deeply. “That includes the King.”

It will not be for long… You will be Queen, and you will by no means become a prisoner in your own palace. Be patient, my love…

“You're smart not to trust him, Ouji-sama,” Arnaki broke into his concentration. “When we were in his presence he said very unkind things about the Princess.”

Cordera gave her sister a look as if to warn her not to start trouble, but had to concede, “It's true, Prince Vegeta. To be honest, it appeared to me that the only reason he sent us to you as…well, it was simply to upset the Princess,” she finished awkwardly.

“This comes as no surprise to me,” he replied blandly, not even wanting to dignify his sire's comments by asking her to elaborate. He could imagine very well what had come from his father's sharp and spiteful tongue. “For now, it would be safest for all of you to remain under constant watch. He can not be happy that his plan back-fired, and I wouldn't put it past him to try to punish you for what he will see as my insolence.” He turned to his lavender-haired heir. “Trunks, if any of the ladies wish to venture outside, you will accompany them.”

“Of course, Father,” the boy replied, but seemed to shift uncomfortably.

Before Vegeta could contemplate the reason for his son's discomfort, Bardock entered the suite, Kakarot following at his heels. “These are the only other men I would trust with my family's lives,” he told the girls, then added, “Or yours.”

“Ouji-sama,” the older Saiyan said without glancing at the others, “Kakarot and I were on our way to meet with Agurion and his allies when we heard the news. There's been an attack in the capital.”

“What?” He rose from his seat in disbelief. “Where? Who is responsible? Were there casualties?”

“Thank the gods, or at least clever planning on the part of the insurgents, no one was hurt.”

“What are you talking about?” Vegeta snapped impatiently. “You mean to say they weren't targeting people?”

“No,” Bardock said breaking into a broad grin. “That's the beauty of it.”

Bulma looked on in confusion as Vegeta smirked, and Bardock began to chuckle.

“What's going on?” she asked. “Do you know who did this?”

“No,” Bardock replied, “But they targeted the ships that were to be used on the next purging mission. Thirty space pods and one carrier destroyed when no one was there to get hurt.”

“Whoever it is, they're sending out a message to my father that they won't tolerate a continuation of his purging policy.” Vegeta nodded his head in approval. “But they won't take a Saiyan life unnecessarily. He must be infuriated!”

“Whoever they are, they'll likely be your allies, Prince Vegeta. Especially now that you've set off a chain reaction by freeing the slaves your father thought to give you.”

“Everyone's talking about it, Vegeta,” Kakarot jumped in. “The buzz going around now is that you intend to end slavery for good.”

It hadn't been the main motivation for his actions last night, but Bulma could tell he was pleased with the end results. “Good. Let them debate it all they like. Now we'll see who can adapt to the new Vegeta-sei.”

“And what will you do to those who can't, Father?” Trunks' question was a serious one, and Bulma knew that the fear of losing this family too was at the root of his concern.

“They will be persuaded to change their minds,” Vegeta told him. Bulma knew it was a much milder answer than Vegeta wanted to give. But only she knew the great struggle it was for him to walk the line between the cold-blooded murderer he had once been, and the peaceful yet powerful King he would become.

“I think it's important for you to find out who these insurgents are,” she told him. “If your goals are truly the same, it would be good to know you can count on their support. What if they're some rogue group who just want to abolish the monarchy altogether?”

“I don't think so, Princess,” Bardock told her. “Agurion tells us his numbers are in the thousands. I did not wish to bring more attention his way after hearing of the attacks. But he and his father will be at the gala tonight. We will have to try to contact him then.”

“We ran into your father, Vegeta. He wants to see you. That's why we came back right away.” Goku's expression was serious. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Poor Goku, he was so innocent in his sincere desire to help that he didn't even realize how insulted Vegeta would be at the implication that he might need his help.

“I don't need protection, Kakarot,” Vegeta said curtly.

“I didn't mean—“

“Just stay here with my household, and make sure no harm comes to them in my absence.” He turned to her. “I'm going to insist you stay inside, at least for today. My father will be unbearable in light of this, and I don't want to take any chances of his running into you or the baby.”

“Okay,” she said nodding. She wanted to hug him, to tell him to hurry back, but any of this would have dishonored him in front of his men and his servants. Damn that Saiyan pride!

He strode from the room with a mixture of determination and purpose, and she abandoned any ideas of telling him these things in his mind. It was getting serious now, and she would have to let him handle this in his own way. Even if that meant putting up that cold Saiyan façade that masked what she knew was in his heart.

“Ouji-sama, wait, please.”

Vegeta turned sharply to see that Bardock had followed him from the suite. “I need you to guard my family, Captain,” he said curtly, impatient to get to his father's throne room.

“Kakarot can do that just fine,” Bardock assured him, coming to face him. “Prince Vegeta, I know you are furious with your father—“

“Furious does not begin to describe it,” he replied blandly, knowing the murder that burned in his eyes.

“My Prince, you can't lose your clear advantage in this situation by loosing your wrath upon the King right now. You've seen that you have allies. If you kill the King outright before the rest of your people have seen his true colors, or gotten the opportunity to know you, you could risk civil war.”

Vegeta growled in frustration. He knew Bardock was right. It had been difficult enough to face his father after knowing what he had plotted against him and his family. He was not a good actor. “How long can I hide my utter contempt for him?” he asked in all honesty. “No one will question me when they have seen my power!”

“But would you have them follow you out of fear or respect?” Bardock countered.

“Does it matter?” he replied, though in his heart he knew the answer. He breathed deeply. “All right, Bardock, I will…control myself a while longer. ”

“Your time will come sooner than you think,” Bardock assured him with that knowing look of a prophet. “All his plans will be for naught. And the people will see him for what he is.”

Perhaps it was the older Saiyan's calm self-assurance, or maybe the hint that he had foreseen the best way to proceed. But Vegeta's gut instincts told him that he should follow Bardock's counsel. The man was more dedicated to righting the wrongs of the past than anyone except himself. His experience as a warrior made him a vital asset. His precognitive wisdom and his sense of honor made him an invaluable ally.

“Come with me to see my father, then,” he told Bardock as they paused outside the throne room. “Perhaps your presence will remind me to hold myself back.”

Bardock nodded, knowing what Vegeta was asking of him. To help him to keep himself in check, to rein in the rage that he knew would ensue as he looked into his father's traitorous eyes.

Vegeta Ou did not seem surprised in the least to see him, and motioned to the guards in the room to leave them alone. He glanced at Bardock, but as Vegeta made no move to remove him, the King decided to merely ignore his presence. He glared at Vegeta with a mixture of annoyance and a hint of amusement at his own antics as he said, "I hear you did not appreciate my little gift. I would have thought you more gracious than that.”

Vegeta stared at him coldly, not missing a beat as he snapped back, “And I would have hoped you would have more decency than to use mere children in your petty plots against me and my mate."

The King laughed as though Vegeta had made a joke. “Don't underestimate the pleasure one can derive from young virgin flesh..." he said with a depraved glint in his eyes that made Vegeta sick to his stomach.

"Is that what you told Frieza when you handed over your own son?"

The King's face grew white. Vegeta had spouted out the words so quickly that he hadn't even thought of the humiliation of what he had just revealed in front of Bardock. But his utter hatred for the man who stood before him now was too great to remain silent. "You disgust me! You are a disgrace to the Saiyan race!"

Any remorse that Vegeta Ou might have felt was lost in the blind fury of his son's insult, exacerbated by the fact that it had been before the third class warrior, who looked at him now with obvious disdain. “You insolent son of a bitch!” he cried, raising his palm as if to form a ball of ki.

Vegeta's abrupt transformation nearly knocked the King to his knees. Only the Prince's fear of destroying the palace itself made him stop just below the threshold of Super Saiyan 3. “You wish to battle me, Father?” he taunted, eyes blazing. “I think you already know what the outcome would be!”

The monarch's face was ashen with fear as he lowered his hand and stepped back, acknowledging defeat.

“Ouji-sama, you mustn't…” Bardock was saying at his side.

Vegeta laughed as he powered down. “There'll be no battle, Bardock,” he assured the captain, then added menacingly, “At least not today.”

“It would not be in the best interests of your people,” Bardock replied calmly, clearly trying to remind him of the original plan.

“As if this old fool ever did anything in the best interests of his people,” he said, motioning to his father with scorn. “Are you truly so blind, Father, that you can't even see your own mistakes and learn from them? By resuming these purging missions, you are leading the Saiyan race down the same path of destruction as before!”

“Vegeta, hear me,” his father implored, much more humbled than he had been before. “The Saiyans are the strongest beings in the Universe. Now that the Kold Empire has been defeated, we would be weak-minded fools not to take advantage of this opportunity to rebuild our Empire.”

"Greatness and Empire need not mean the subjugation or destruction of every race that is not Saiyan!" Vegeta retorted.

"Ironic words coming from a man who apparently terrorized the known galaxy while in Frieza's service. Do you think your people will ignore what you have done the last twenty years?”

Vegeta gritted his teeth, cursing his father silently for preying upon his own guilt, and said, "I did as I was taught, by you, and then by that vile creature you enslaved me to. But I have learned from my mistakes. You on the other hand wish to repeat the same mistakes you made twenty years ago!"

"I suppose then you agree with those who destroyed my ships last night? Perhaps you even know who is responsible,” Vegeta Ou accused.

“I have no idea,” Vegeta said, dismissing him, “but I will say this. It's heartening to see that not all Saiyans approve of your despicable plans to dominate the galaxy through a campaign of destruction.”

The King sighed as if impatient with his son's lack of judgment. "Perhaps you think these insurgents will rally to your side. You forget that there are those who think you've gone totally mad and are unfit to rule."

"It is you who are unfit to rule, Father."

"Then you will publicly challenge me?"

Vegeta laughed. "No. Not now. If I killed you now, no one would know the truth about you. But they will, Father. And my people will judge me and my princess and my heirs for themselves, no matter how much you have tried to poison their minds against me.”

“I have done no such thing.” Had his father's blatant lies always been as apparent as they were now?

“As you say, Father,” Vegeta replied diplomatically, catching Bardock's warning glance out of the corner of his eye. He could easily tell the King all he knew of his betrayal, of his plot with King Kold—but now was not the time to give away his hand. He had said enough. “If you will excuse me, I have training to attend to.”

“Then we will see you tonight at the grand ball?” the King asked, straightening his uniform and attempting to recover his lost dignity.

“Of course, Father. It will be the perfect opportunity for the Elites to meet my mate and my son.”

Vegeta Ou shook his head. “I wouldn't bring the little brat, if I were you. I can not guarantee the reaction to such an odd-looking infant. You might not wish for your princess to be distressed.”

It was an effort not to react to the insult, but Vegeta had composed himself sufficiently to restrain his instinct to lash out. “Once they have seen my son as the man he will become, they will not question his right to follow me,” he said smugly.

“Do as you wish, you insolent brat,” his father replied blandly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Don't worry, your Majesty,” Vegeta replied arrogantly. “I will.”

He turned to leave just as a guard came through the door. “Your Majesty!”

“What is it, Portocal?” Vegeta Ou said irritably. “I told you I did not wish to be disturbed!” Vegeta could not help but notice the regal façade his father had taken on as the man had entered the room. If only his guards had seen him five minutes ago!

“I'm sorry, Sire, but Captain Melecot and his daughter, Lady Cereza insist on seeing you. I told them that the Prince was in private conference with you, but it only made them even more adamant!”

Vegeta could not help but notice the way his father closed his eyes and breathed deeply as if this visit meant even more trouble than his son had already given him. “Send them in,” he sighed.

The older Saiyan was someone he had never seen before, dressed in the armor of an Elite, and with a ki that seemed somewhat higher than that of the average Saiyan. The young woman at his side wore the formal dress uniform of a warrior in training, with long raven black hair flowing down her back. Vegeta thought she looked vaguely familiar, until he realized that the hair and widow's peak had made her look somewhat like a more feminine Raditz—and he had to keep from laughing aloud as the realization hit him.

“I will leave you to your business, Father,” Vegeta said, averting his eyes from the Raditz-girl. “Bardock, come—“

“Oh, but Prince Vegeta, our business is with you as well,” the Elite said before he could make his exit.

“Vegeta, this is Captain Melecot, one of our most brilliant military leaders,” his father broke in. “And his daughter, Lady Cereza. May I present Prince Vegeta.”

The two bowed their heads to him, and he acknowledged their gesture with a nod. “What business have you with me?” he asked with barely concealed suspicion. Something didn't seem right about this Melecot; he didn't trust him, though he wasn't even sure why. He would ask Bardock later.

The Raditz-girl—what was her name? Cereza?—looked at him and smiled coquettishly. That in itself was unnerving. “Why Prince Vegeta, to think that all these years I was told I would have to wait for you to grow up,” she said looking him over.

“Excuse me?” he asked, glancing at Bardock. Damn! He could tell that Bardock knew something he didn't! Why hadn't he warned him…?

Melecot raised his eyebrow. “I see, Sire, you have not informed your son of our arrangement?”

Vegeta glared at his Father. “What arrangement would that be?”

The King cleared his throat. “Vegeta, you last saw Cereza when you were five years old. She was twelve at the time. Her power levels were extraordinary even then, and she is an Elite. Her father and I made a betrothal agreement—“

“What the hell are you talking about?! Betrothal? This is the first I've heard of—“

“It is quite standard custom, Ouji-sama, especially for royalty and Elites,” Melecot broke in, in explanation.

“This is absurd,” he said in disgust. “And why was I never informed?” he questioned his father.

“You were a child. You were only nine when you left us—”

“And when we first met again, less than a year ago, I don't recall your mentioning this—“

“I told you that you would have to choose a Saiyan bride,” his Father said sternly.

“You just neglected to say that you had already chosen one for me,” Vegeta replied. He turned to the Elite and his daughter. “It seems my father has failed to inform you that I have already mated and have a son—“

“We saw the news reports,” Melecot replied, “but once you've straightened out this alien business, you will need to find a Saiyan wife. You must know that—“

“All I know is that your insolence and insult to the Saiyan no Oujo is inexcusable!” he snarled, electricity beginning to crackle about him.

“Vegeta, control yourself!” his father reprimanded. As if the fool could do anything to make him!

“By Saiyan law and tradition, Cereza will be your mate,” Melecot told him, seemingly unperturbed by Vegeta's outburst.

“Fuck Saiyan law and tradition,” he replied, shocking even himself.

Melecot shook his head disparagingly. “And you aspire to be our King? When you have no respect for our culture!”

Vegeta stepped towards the man, bursting into Super Saiyan as he came face to face with him. Now the son of a bitch was sweating. Good! He should be afraid. “I have utmost respect for my people and my heritage. It is your offense towards my mate and son that make me hold you in utter contempt!”

“I…did not mean to offend, Ouji-sama,” the man said, backing away. “I was only following the traditions of our people…”

“This can be settled in a traditional fashion, you know.” Vegeta turned to see that the young woman had spoken. She walked up to him, standing between him and her father. “It is my right to challenge the woman who has taken my betrothed, to a battle. But I'm afraid you know that it would be a rather one-sided combat. I believe my father and yours were suggesting you handle this in a more delicate fashion.”

Vegeta glared at her, having thought her just a child, but now seeing that she was as cunning and manipulative as her sire. “I will forgive your insolence as the foolhardiness of a child,” he said in a condescending yet menacing voice. “But I warn you, Lady. If I were to ever permit such a challenge, which I would not, physical strength can only win battles. It cannot win the heart. Perhaps when you are grown you will understand such things.”

Her face turned red at the insult, and Vegeta powered down, satisfied that he had made his point. “If you will all excuse me now, I have training to do.”

He left without waiting for a reply.

He leapt into the sky, needing freedom from the suffocating confines of the palace. How much more of this would he have to bear?! The audacity of his father, not to mention that arrogant Elite and his foolish daughter! To think that they would even entertain the idea that he would abandon Bulma and his son! For…for a ridiculous young girl who looked like a female Raditz! It would be laughable if it did not infuriate him so!

“Ouji-sama!”

Vegeta turned in annoyance to see Bardock flying at his heels. “Did you know this, Bardock?! Why did you not warn me?”

The Seer shook his head. “No, my Prince. I had no idea. While I saw this man in my visions, I knew nothing about the betrothal.”

“It has to be a ruse! No one ever informed me of this!”

Bardock shrugged his shoulders. “Such arrangements are commonplace, especially among royalty. I would not have been privy to such information back then.”

“But Nappa would have known,” Vegeta shot back. “Why keep it from me?”

“You were a child, Ouji-sama,” Bardock explained. “It would not have been considered necessary to tell you until you had reached puberty. In any case, as far as Nappa knew, our planet had been destroyed. The young lady was dead. There would be no need to even consider it.”

“He will stop at nothing to insult me and my family!” Vegeta cried. “How long do you expect me to refrain from putting an end to this once and for all?” It was only Bardock's presence that had kept him in check. His respect for the man's wisdom and precognitive gift were all that had prevented him from killing them all…

“Prince Vegeta, your father is only one problem. Do you think Melecot is alone in his thinking that you should take a Saiyan mate? When he reports to his allies what he saw as your lack of respect for our traditions, it will only fuel their own suspicions that you are unfit.”

“Then let them challenge me! And I will destroy each and every one of them!” His patience was frazzled, and he was tired of playing this diplomatic game, though it had begun less than twelve hours ago.

“Prince Vegeta, I beg your patience. Even if just until tonight. Why don't we go to Agurion, and see if he knows who is responsible for the attacks? Then, at least we'll have an idea of whether or not we can count on them as allies.”

“I can only take so much, Bardock,” he warned.

Bardock simply looked at him with something akin to…sympathy?... as he said, “No, my Prince. You are stronger than that. And you have taken much more…”

Once again he cursed himself for revealing so much in front of Bardock. “You will never speak of what you heard,” he hissed.

Bardock nodded gravely. “You can trust me, Ouji-sama. And… to be quite honest, you revealed nothing that surprises me greatly. It only fills me with more disgust for your father.”

Vegeta nodded and sighed, needing to change the subject. “Come. We'll go see Agurion. And I'll wait until tonight, Bardock. Only because I have faith in that sixth sense of yours. But if he crosses me again…”

Vegeta didn't finish the threat. He didn't have to. Vegeta Ou had stepped over the line long ago. Each insult that he added to injury merely served to strengthen Vegeta's resolve that nothing would be settled, nothing would be right, until his father was dead.

“What are you working on, Princess?”

Bulma looked up from her laptop to the curious green eyes of the young girl who had been helping her set up her equipment. Cordera had spent the morning assisting her with some basic tasks, proving herself to be quite familiar with most of the mathematical and scientific concepts related to Bulma's various projects. Bulma could only wonder what technological level the Creas-sei-jin had reached, but it seemed that this girl would do her people proud, having retained much of their knowledge that would otherwise have been lost forever. What if their achievements in medicine or technology surpassed those of both Humans and Saiyans? The possibilities were exciting, and Bulma would encourage the girl to explore her own creativity.

“Something that will make life a lot easier here for people like me and you,” she replied finally, looking back at her screen. She frowned as one of the equations seemed to look simply wrong.

For a long moment the girl studied the screen, then said, “I think you forgot to take the integral here.” She pointed to the error and Bulma's mouth opened wide.

“How the hell did I miss that?” she murmured, retyping the equation. It worked, and she looked at the girl in disbelief. “Your sister was right. You are a genius. I don't know anyone else besides my father who would have caught that so quickly!”

Cordera smiled, her cheeks reddening. “Thank you, Princess. I was doing similar work in a lab where I was an assistant when—” She cut herself off and her smile faded as the end of her world came back to her in its vivid horror.

“It's okay,” Bulma told her gently. “I know it hurts. Try to keep your mind busy on other things. It helps, trust me. I know.”

The girl nodded as her sister came in with a wailing baby in her arms. “Cordera, it's not fair! I've changed him six times already today, and you've only done it once! And he keeps peeing on me!”

The older Trunks came in behind her, smirking in amusement. So like Vegeta! “Sorry about that, Arnaki. Here, give him to me, I'll change him.”

“No, no, Prince Trunks,” Cordera said moving towards him and going to take the baby from him. “Please, let me. It's our job.”

Bulma noticed Trunks take on an awkwardness as the girl approached, as he stammered, “No, it's okay…You're doing stuff with Mom…”

Cordera ignored him, taking the baby from him and setting him down on the countertop. “Arnaki, you can at least bring me diapers.”

Arnaki handed them over, watching skeptically. “He's gonna pee on you, you know.”

Bulma winced as she waited for Trunks to uphold his reputation, then raised her eyebrows in surprise as the girl quickly met the oncoming stream with a diaper.

“Good job,” Trunks told her, equally impressed.

“How did you do that?” Arnaki asked, flustered that she had not been so skilled.

“Experience,” Cordera told her as she pulled on the baby's clothes.

“And great reflexes,” Trunks murmured, his eyes never leaving the girl. Cordera looked at him and smiled brightly, making his cheeks flush again. Gods, he had a crush on her! Bulma smiled to see that the girl seemed to reciprocate her son's interest.

Arnaki had been watching them curiously, and seemed to catch on just as Bulma did. With the finesse of a younger sister skilled in the art of embarrassment, she said, “Hey Cordera, isn't it kind of freaky to look at Prince Trunks and know that you just changed his diapers?” The girl giggled as both Trunks and Cordera turned similar shades of crimson.

“Uh…it's not really me…I mean…I've grown a lot since then…” He silenced himself as he realized how that had come out, and his cheeks burned even deeper red with his mortification.

Cordera was trying hard not to smile as she admonished her sister, but as their eyes met she began to giggle. Bulma stepped in to her son's aid.

“Trunks, honey, would you please get me the handheld computer I left on the table next to the bed?”

“Sure, Mom,” he said, glad for the excuse to leave.

“Arnaki, you're horrible! You embarrassed the Prince!” Cordera said as he got out of earshot.

“He's the one who said he's grown a lot since then,” she replied, unable to contain her laughter.

“Arnaki!” she reprimanded, then looked at Bulma helplessly. “I'm so sorry, Princess…”

“Don't worry about it,” she told the girls. “He's a big boy. He can handle it.” Then, she added confidentially, “I don't think it would have embarrassed him so much if he didn't seem to like you.”

Cordera blushed, but her sister said, “It's obvious, isn't it Princess? From the moment they started talking…I could tell they liked each other!”

“Yes, but you have to stop embarrassing them,” Bulma scolded her lightly, her own smile peeking through.

“Yes, Princess,” Arnaki said obediently.

“Now, I'll take my little boy. I don't want him to think his Mommy's ignoring him,” she said, lifting the baby from the girl's arms.

“What would you like us to do now, Princess Bulma?” Cordera asked.

“Relax,” she told them. “You don't have to be working twenty-four hours a day. You barely slept last night. Take a break.” She turned to leave the lab, then had a thought. “Cordera, there is one thing you could do.”

“Yes, Princess?” she asked eagerly.

“Take a look at the plans and equations on the computer screen…and tell me if you can figure out what I am working on. It'll be a kind of test.”

The girl nodded and sat at the computer, anxious to do what seemed second nature to her. Who knew? Maybe she would help Bulma complete her little project sooner than she'd hoped to.

Trunks was still looking in her room for the handheld computer that wasn't really there. “I must have taken it into the lab already,” she said, thinly veiling the lie.

Trunks gave her his father's smirk. “It was never in here, was it?” he said knowingly. She shook her head and he said, “Thanks. If my face had gotten any hotter I would have gone Super Saiyan. Aranki is really sweet, but she can say the most embarrassing things sometimes.”

“She's a little sister. Get used to it. Hopefully you'll have your own someday. Then you'll really know the meaning of torture.”

Trunks laughed, putting his hands on his mother's shoulders, while his infant self nestled sleepily against her between them. “I hope so, Mom. I've seen the way Dad is with the baby...and with you. If you had a little girl that looked like you I think she would probably wrap him around her little finger.”

She was about to tell him that she agreed one hundred percent, when suddenly the buzzer rang indicating that someone had come to the suite. She put the baby down in his crib and rushed to the foyer, Trunks behind her. Goku was already there, and she breathed a sigh of relief. With Trunks and Son-kun here, they were more than safe.

“I'll take care of it, Bulma,” Goku said as he pressed the security code into the door. It opened to reveal a young Saiyan boy in civilian clothes, a palace guard watching him closely.

“I have a delivery for the Princess,” the boy told Goku.

“It's been scanned for explosives,” the guard reported. “It's safe. But we didn't think the
Princess would want us to open it.”

“Good decision,” Goku intimated, taking the package from the boy. He knew better than anyone what it was like to incite his friend's anger.

“Thank you,” Bulma told the young boy, then looked at Goku. “Son-kun, aren't you supposed to give him a tip?” At his puzzled look, she said, “Money! Do you have any money?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, fumbling in his pocket. He pulled out a gold coin. “Ottoussan said this is like five zenie.”

He handed it to the boy, who smiled and said, “Thank you, your Highness!” as the guard watched the exchange with interest.

“Do you know who this is from?” Bulma asked kindly.

“No, I'm sorry, Oujo-sama. I don't.”

Bulma nodded and the guard led the boy away as Goku sealed the door.

“Wow, Bulma, it looks like a present,” Goku commented as she began to unwrap the gold foil. “I wonder who sent it?”

Bulma picked up the note and looked at it. “For the future Queen,” she read. She set the note down and opened the package to find the most exquisite gown she had ever seen. The smooth gold fabric was as soft as satin, but shimmered as if it had its own illumination. It refracted the artificial light like millions of microprisms, giving the illusion of a golden aura that was not unlike Vegeta's ki when he powered up. “Vegeta,” she said sighing. “Gods, it's beautiful.”

“You think Dad sent it?” Trunks asked skeptically.

“Who else, silly? It says for the future Queen. You don't think the King would have sent it.” She laughed at the thought.

“At least not if it checks out as having no explosives,” Trunks murmured.

“I was telling him last night that I had no idea what I would wear tonight. He's been gone a while. He must have gone somewhere and picked it out.” She held up the dress against her body. “What do you think?”

“It's really pretty, Bulma,” Goku said. “I just didn't think Vegeta would do something like that. It's…thoughtful.”

Bulma snorted. “Well, there's a lot you don't know about him, Goku,” she said defensively.

“I would ask Dad when he comes back, Mom,” Trunks said warily. “Goku's right. Dad's not exactly the candy and flowers type.”

“You're all being over-cautious. It's just a dress. He knew I needed one, and that's it.” She picked up the package and threw the gown over her arm. “I'm going to hang this up, and check on Trunks-kun.” The little Trunks. She had finally found a way to distinguish the two by name.

How wrong they were about her Prince! No one knew him as she did. But soon, all of Vegeta-sei would know the man he was. The only man fit to be King. And in this dress, she would be his Queen.

Vegeta and Bardock were ushered into the main house of the huge estate that belonged to Prime Minister Melangianes and his son, Agurion. The servants and slaves bowed to him in respect, and he nodded to them cordially as he made his way into the private sitting room where Agurion waited.

“Welcome to my home, Ouji-sama,” the warrior said bowing. “It is an honor.”

“I am grateful for your support,” he told the man, “but the King, by his actions, is making it nearly impossible to go on with this charade much longer. I need to know now whom I can count on as my Allies, and who will resist change. And I need to know who is responsible for the attack today on the purging ships.”

The look of satisfaction on Agurion's face at the mention of the attack told him more than words could.

“So it was your forces? They did this on your command?”

“Not my command, Sire. The attack was carried out by a group allied with us, but the actual order was given by the leader of the resistance.”

“And he is…?” Vegeta asked impatiently.

“She is unknown to all but her top staff,” Agurion replied. “She has organized forces against the King for quite some time, and has let it be known that she would favor your ascension to the throne in your father's place.”

“So this…woman…is my ally?” he asked skeptically. “But none of you have met her?”

“She uses the code name Mother, I suppose because she is the mother of the rebellion. Rumor has it she fought once at your father's side, but was sent away because she protested his alliance with the Kold Empire and his intensified purging policies. After the rebirth of Vegeta-sei, she came back to this planet out of exile, though few have had actual contact with her. She is said to be a great warrior in her own right, but has expressly forbidden her followers from taking other Saiyan lives. She has fought to disrupt the King's policies and sabotage the purging missions, and has, as I've said, stated that she believes Vegeta-sei will only survive if you replace the King on the throne.”

Vegeta took this all in, his mind racing with possibilities, then said, “I want a meeting with her. You will arrange that for me. Surely you have contacts that can get word to her.”

“I will do my best, Ouji-sama. Mother usually has her envoys contact my father. That is how she has been able to gain the secret support of many of the Ministers of the Royal council.”

“Then get word to your father,” Vegeta instructed him. “Tell this Mother I am more than ready and willing to dispose of my father. But I will not wait indefinitely. I need to know whom I can trust. I will expect you or your father to accompany me and my family to the gala tonight. Better yet, supply Bardock with a list of all those whom I may count on for support.”

Agurion seemed to hesitate, as if not wanting to betray his comrades. “We have never compiled such a list. For reasons of security.”

“Agurion, if you truly have faith in me to rule Vegeta-sei, I will have to know whom I can trust, and whom I can not. The sooner this is resolved, the better it will be for all of us.”

“Yes, Vegeta Ouji,” Agurion said respectfully. “I shall compile the list immediately and give it to Bardock personally.”

“Thank you,” Vegeta told him. “Your loyalty will be remembered, and rewarded.”

It was only one day, and they were all going stir-crazy.

At least on the ship, there had been nowhere else to go. But here, with a whole palace, hell, a whole planet, spread out before them, this isolation in the confines of Vegeta's royal suite was maddening. At least she had her work to keep her busy. But she would give anything for some fresh air.

Or maybe it was just wondering what was taking Vegeta so long…

Trunks-kun had fallen asleep, and she wandered back to her lab to find Cordera engrossed in calculations on her laptop. The girl was relentless, and had spent the last two hours going over Bulma's schematics. “So, did you figure out what it is I'm trying to build?”

The girl looked up at her and smiled knowingly. “You're brilliant, Princess Bulma. If we had had such a device on Creas-sei…” Her voice trailed off, and her smile faded.

“It will help you and your sister to protect yourselves,” Bulma told her, knowing that perhaps that wasn't enough comfort to make up for an entire world they had lost.

“You actually understood Mom's schematics without having her explain it?” Trunks asked in wonder, coming over to them. “It took me years of studying to learn how to do that.”

Cordera laughed. “Maybe women are just universally more intelligent than men,” she teased him.

“Oh really?” he retorted with a grin. “Care to explain then, to this lowly man, just what his mother's been working on?”

“If you weren't so busy training with your father, you would know,” Bulma kidded him.

“Come on, Mom, I spent the first twenty years of my life having you teach me math, science, and just about everything else under the sun. You can't blame me for—“

“I know, I know,” she said, embarrassing him with a kiss on the cheek. “All work and no play makes Trunks a dull Saiyan, or something like that. Okay, Cordera, why don't you enlighten him.”

“It's a brain-wave dampener,” she said matter-of-factly. “Designed to interrupt specific brain waves…in this case, the ones that allow Saiyans and some other beings to manipulate their ki.”

Bulma nodded with approval. “So you did understand it. Good. Maybe you can help me work on the prototype.”

Trunks' mouth had dropped open. “No way! Mom, does Dad know about this?”

Bulma hesitated, wincing as she admitted, “Not really. I'd rather not tell him until I'm finished.” She paused, then added, “You know how your father is, Trunks. I don't want him to jump to any wrong conclusions, and think that I'm doing this because I don't trust him to protect us.”

“Smart move,” her son agreed, glancing over Cordera's shoulder at the computer screen. “I don't think you want any of the Saiyans knowing about this either. They might feel threatened. All you'd have to do is shoot this at someone who was depending on their ki to shield them, and then you could knock them out with a conventional weapon before they even knew what hit them.”

“Or at least get in a good punch,” she murmured. “But it's not meant to be an offensive weapon. It's for defense.”

“That's not how the King would see it,” Trunks remarked.

Bulma shrugged her shoulders. “Oh well…” She'd probably had the rotten son of a bitch in mind when she'd created this, but she wouldn't admit that aloud. The fear of Vegeta Ou trying to hurt her baby had been the impetus for this little project. But it would certainly come in handy for others, like the Creas-sei-jin girls, who would otherwise be defenseless.

“Could we start working on it, Princess?” Cordera asked excitedly.

“Sure,” Bulma replied sitting down next to her at the computer. “The sooner the better.” After all, what else was there to do while she waited for Vegeta to get back?

He'd probably circled the planet five times, working off his anger in speed while Bardock followed at a discrete distance. More than a few times Vegeta had turned around and told the older Saiyan to leave him alone, but that belligerent bastard had refused again and again. Was he a glutton for punishment? Vegeta thought so each time he let loose his rage, but the damned loyal subject that he was, Bardock would just spar with his Prince in midair until his frustration had abated. As a sparring partner Vegeta had to admit the Captain was much more than he would have expected of a Third class. But Bardock was extraordinary in many ways, wasn't he? It was clear to see where Kakarot had gotten his fighting spirit from, despite the pathetic softening that had come from being raised as a human.

“Are you trying to keep me out of trouble or just annoy the hell out of me?” Vegeta asked as they both touched ground outside the palace.

“Maybe a little of both,” Bardock admitted.

“You're lucky I need you around,” Vegeta grumbled, the hint of a smirk at his lips.

“So are you, my Prince,” Bardock replied, grinning openly as he wiped blood from his forehead.

Maybe all of Kakarot's inane behavior was not the result of his human upbringing.

“Prince Vegeta, I suggest you get some rest before tonight. Things could get difficult.” Bardock was serious once more as they walked the halls of the palace towards his rooms.

Vegeta glanced at him, trying to read the enigmatic expression. “Is there something you've seen?” he snapped. “Something I should know about?”

The prophet hesitated a moment before responding, a gesture which served only to annoy Vegeta more. “Nothing…concrete. But I have a feeling things may come to a head tonight.”

“If you have any visions, you must tell me at once,” Vegeta told him.

“Even if they might cause you to avoid things that must come to pass before you become King?” Bardock asked, as if testing him. “In doing so you would only change the future.”

“Some futures are meant to be changed,” Vegeta replied, turning to stand before the older man. “I warn you, Bardock,” he said, his voice suddenly menacing, perhaps more so than he had intended. “I will not let harm come to my family. If you see any threat whatsoever—“

“You and the Princess will be King and Queen. And your sons will both flourish. But that doesn't mean there are not unavoidable difficulties that will stand in your way,” Bardock replied cryptically. “There are enemies that will try to thwart you.”

“Then I will destroy them,” Vegeta replied darkly. “But it's your job to point them out to me as soon as your gift reveals them to you.”

“This curse was given to me so that I would foresee the destruction of our race. There are faces, images, brief moments of insight. It's not as if the entire future is laid out before me—“

“And that is precisely why I am counting on your warrior instinct and any Intelligence you can gather to bring this whole mess to an expeditious end,” Vegeta replied. They had gotten to the door of the royal suite, and he punched in the security code.

Good. The living area was empty. He could sense the baby asleep in the bedroom, and his woman in the portable lab she had said she would set up for herself. The weak ki signatures of the servants and the stronger ones of Trunks and Kakarot also filled his senses. He sighed inwardly in relief. More than once he had imagined his father's forces taking advantage of his absence to… No, he would not think of it. He would have sensed Bulma's distress even from the other side of Vegeta-sei. No, he was just being needlessly worried. This was ludicrous! He was the Legendary reborn! Who would dare to cross him?!

In his mind's eye he saw those who would be foolish enough to do so. His father. Maybe even that bastard Melecot, and his irreverent daughter. Just the thought of that secret arrangement they had revealed to him revived his ire. Rest?! How could he rest?! With purposeful strides he headed towards his training room. Bulma had promised to set up the miniature Gravity device within. With any luck she had done it already, and he could take out his rage on the training drones she had fashioned him…

“Vegeta? You're back!”

He turned to see her looking at him expectantly, his son and the servant girl with her. Suddenly the thought of having to tell her all that had transpired was a daunting task. She would virtually explode with her own indignation when she heard of the betrothal. It was not something he was up to dealing with right now.

“I have to train,” he told her emotionlessly, consciously shielding his thoughts from her.

He could feel her hurt even as she yelled, “Wait! Get back here!”

She wouldn't be happy. But he didn't feel like dealing with that either. The doors swished shut on his training chamber and he prepared to lose himself and his stress in a good workout.

She'd buried herself in her work—wasn't that always the way?—while Vegeta had worked out his frustrations in his training chamber. It hadn't been easy to hide her dismay at his abrupt entrance and even more hasty departure. She was dying to know what had transpired between Vegeta and his father; the poisonous rage within him had permeated her being the moment he had drawn near. But he'd deliberately closed off his thoughts, so she had no idea what had engendered such fury.

Goku had made some comment like, “Don't worry, Bulma—you know how grumpy he can get.” She'd just told him to shut up, then regretted it. Her lifelong friend had seen the hurt in her eyes and had just wanted to comfort her. The truth was that she felt embarrassed, not in front of the Saiyans, but the alien girls who did not truly know her husband. Withdrawal was his defense mechanism. Where others sought comfort in their loved ones, Vegeta found solace in isolation. Bulma had learned long ago not to take the Saiyan Prince's behavior personally. Sometimes, he needed to be alone. And when he was ready, he would open up to her. He always did. Then she would comfort him in the way that only she could—with her love.

“Princess?” Cordera's tentative voice drew her from her thoughts, and she smiled.

“How's it going?” Bulma asked her. “Done?”

In answer the girl handed her the finished device. Bulma inspected it carefully, then nodded in approval. “Great job, Cordera! I don't think the technicians in my father's lab could have done it any faster. Now all we have to do is test it out.”

“Who's your test subject going to be?”

Bulma smirked. “Gee, I don't know. I guess I'll just wait for the right opportunity to use it.”

Cordera's face darkened. “I hope you won't need it at the gala tonight, Princess. From the way the King spoke, I am truly worried for you and the little Prince.”

“Thank you,” Bulma said kindly, knowing the girl was sincere. “But you don't have to worry. Vegeta won't let anything happen to me. And as for the baby, I was thinking it might be better if we didn't take him. I'd feel a lot better if he were tucked away in his crib. We'll just have to leave someone behind to watch all of you.” A hopeful glint appeared in the girl's eyes and she teased, “Sorry, I think Trunks should make an appearance tonight. But Goku could stay to keep you all safe.”

The girl's cheeks flushed as Bulma seemed to have caught her thoughts. “Princess Bulma, I'm sorry, I—” she stammered.

“There's nothing to be sorry for, Cordera,” Bulma told her, then added, “My son is gorgeous, and a real sweetheart. I don't blame you one bit!”

“But he's a Prince…and I…I know I'm just…”

“A very pretty and intelligent young woman. And I think he likes you, too,” Bulma confided, not letting her finish the statement which would only have been an unnecessary self-deprecation.

Cordera's eyes opened wide with disbelief, and Bulma wasn't sure if it was the fact that Prince Trunks might actually take an interest in her, or that the Princess seemed to see nothing at all wrong with that.

The conversation came to an awkward end as the young man in question came into the lab. Arnaki was following at his heels, Baby Trunks squirming in her arms.

“Okay, Cordera, I've fed both Trunkses, changed four diapers and been peed on. Do you think you could possibly break away from your playing with gadgets to help? I'm exhausted!” The exasperation on her face turned to embarrassment as she realized that Bulma had heard her outburst, but Bulma laughed as she took the baby into her arms.

“Did you peepee on Arnaki again, Trunks-kun?” she cooed, cuddling him. It was great to have help with his care, but she missed holding him constantly as she had had to before. Vegeta called it coddling, but she knew that as soon as this baby Saiyan began to walk—or fly—she would miss his infancy.

“You're just not fast enough with the diaper,” the older girl told her sister dryly.

“You're doing a wonderful job,” Bulma told the little girl, smiling her reassurance. “Why don't you take a rest for a while? I've decided to leave the baby home from the party tonight, so even though he'll probably sleep through it, you two are still going to have to watch him.”

“You're leaving them alone?” Trunks asked warily.

Bulma shook her head. “No. I think Goku should stay behind and keep watch.”

“I think I could use a nap, Princess,” Arnaki admitted gratefully. “We didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Thank you.”

“Go. Relax,” Bulma said, sobering to remember just what the girls had been through last night. Had it only been hours ago? The two had fit in so nicely with their little household that it seemed they had been here much longer.

Arnaki smiled and left, stopping first to say good bye to the baby, a gesture that meant a lot to Bulma. Their affection and loyalty seemed genuine, and it was nice to have people around she could trust.

“Mom, have you spoken to Dad at all? Do you have any idea what happened?”

She shook her head. “It's been a couple of hours, hasn't it?”

“And that party is in six hours,” he added, with more than a little apprehension. “I'd sure like to know what we're walking into.”

“So would I,” she said softly, pensive. She looked down at the baby in her arms. “Trunks-kun, would you stay with Trunks for a little while? I need to talk to your Daddy alone.”

The baby seemed to understand, willingly reaching out to his older self. It was still an eerie sight to see, knowing the two boys were one and the same. Trunks looked curiously at the infant in his arms, his face suddenly paling as the familiar sounds and odors told him that the child's lunch had found its way out. “Oh, man, did you have to wait for me to take you?”

The baby giggled as if he knew how much he'd humiliated his future self. Cordera laughed and reached for the baby. “It's all right, Prince Trunks. I'll change him for you.”

“Uh, thanks,” he said uncomfortably, as if remembering Arnaki's embarrassing comments. Bulma supposed it was terribly awkward considering the fact that he was obviously smitten with this girl.

“Don't worry, Princess,” Cordera told her as she took the baby. “I'll watch Baby Trunks while you speak to Prince Vegeta and get ready for the party. You should rest yourself, too.”

Bulma hesitated, feeling terribly guilty for having spent so little time with her little boy today. But not knowing Vegeta's state of mind, it was probably better to approach him alone. “Are you sure, Cordera? You did a lot of work today, too—“

“Um, I'll help her,” Trunks offered, aware that he had sounded too anxious. He turned to the girl. “I'll play with him, and keep you company. You just have to do the dirty work.”

“I figured that,” Cordera told him smiling brightly. “Okay, Prince Trunks. You have a deal.”

As Bulma left to find Vegeta she could hear her son saying, “And please. Drop the Prince. Just call me Trunks.” She smiled. Something told her she had just done these two a favor.

The training room had been abandoned, and she found a trail of his sweaty clothes on the floor in their bedroom. She'd chastise him later for his sloppiness. The sound of running water and the pull of his ki told her that he was in the bath. Perfect. She stepped quietly into the bathroom to see him lying in his new favorite spot, his head back against the ledge of the shallow part of the bathing pool. His eyes were closed, and she could tell by his soft breathing that he was either asleep or deep in thought. Sneaking up on a Saiyan was perhaps not the safest thing to do as a rule, but she was fairly confident that he would sense her ki before he blasted her.

Fairly confident.

Quietly, she peeled off her own clothes, dropping them to the floor. Only when the device she'd left in her pocket made a clinking noise on the tile did she take in a breath of air that would surely give her away. He didn't move. She pulled off her underwear and tip-toed silently towards him.

“I know you're there, woman.” His voice shocked her so in the quiet that she nearly jumped.

“Then why didn't you say something?” she asked, hands on her hips.

His turned around to appraise her, a mischievous smirk on his face as he said in a low voice, “I was waiting for you to take off your clothes.”

The lust in his eyes made her fully aware of her nakedness, as her nipples hardened under his stare. A wave of arousal rushed through her, settling in the warmth between her legs. She watched his lips curve into a grin as he caught the tell-tale scent of her desire. Damn those Saiyan senses of his! She stepped towards the edge of the pool as he rose slowly up to face her, his perfect form glistening with droplets of water, as he wrapped his tail around her waist, pressing his engorged arousal against her warmth, begging for entry. His hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her deeply, seeking out all he had pushed aside before.

If you had wanted me to take off my clothes, you could have just asked, instead of acting like a jerk and running off to train, she complained in his head, even as her kiss told him that she wasn't in the least annoyed at him.

I didn't want to talk about it, he thought back to her, his hand moving down to fondle her breast.

“Then tell me now,” she breathed as his lips nibbled at her neck. She really did want to know, even if his ministrations were making it difficult to think straight…

“I still… don't want… to talk…” he murmured between kisses, his mouth making its way to her breast. Her only reply was a soft whimper as his tongue twirled around her nipple, making any other verbal response impossible. His hands were flames of desire that made their way down her back, sweltering heat that rested on her cheeks, separating her legs with probing fingers. Damn him for knowing what every sensation was doing to her—he caressed her sex with such finesse that she nearly exploded, but he stopped just short of her coming, as if wanting her to beg for more.

You can't…do this…just to avoid….talking… Gods, she couldn't even think straight! She had a vague sense of rising up into the air, and she sought out his lips as she wrapped herself around him, her hands in his soft wild hair, her legs locking around his as he lifted her up gently to lower her onto his throbbing…

“Ohhhhhhhh!” She cried out as he filled her completely, then carried out his own style of glorious torture by lifting her off of him, then bringing her back down hard, deeper each time, faster, fire burning out of control…and with each thrust his mind pushed further into hers, showing her all that he hadn't the strength to say in words. And she knew that he had meant for this to happen. That he wanted her to know everything, but only this way…The images flashed by too quickly for her consciousness to grasp, and she knew she would have to unravel the memories later. But his emotions hit her with full force, love for her, for the baby, fear for them, shame, indignation, rage, insult, fear, fury, love, rage, fear fear fear fear…

“Vegeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeta!” Her voice cried out as ecstasy washed over them, drowning the emotions whose intensity had become overpowering. She clung to him as they fell into the pool, clutched at him for dear life, knowing that only the bond between them would make all that they would face bearable. Their heads above water once more, he gazed into her eyes. And she felt his shame for all he had shown her. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. Yet she had to know what to expect. And he certainly hadn't wanted her to see how afraid he was that someone would try to take her away from him…

“I have faith in you,” she whispered, fixing her blue eyes on the dark onyx window to his soul. “You will prevail, Vegeta. You'll do whatever you have to. And it will be the right thing. For your people…and for us.”

He kissed her deeply, gratefully, his lips almost trembling with his wonder at her unshakable belief in him. How much would she withstand? How much could she bear?

Whatever it takes… she said softly in his mind.

Even in thoughts he could not express what he felt right now. But she knew.

Come. Let's take this to the bed…

He nodded silently as he carried her inside.

He made love to her again, slowly this time, savoring every taste of her skin, every sensation of her tiny fingers and soft caresses that ignited an insatiable hunger within him. He needed her so much it hurt. Losing himself in her was the only way to calm the shameful fears within him, the inadequacies and doubts that he would ever live up to the task that lie ahead. He'd been a coward, afraid to tell her of his father's latest treachery. Afraid to…hurt her. To allow even the slightest possibility that she might doubt his commitment to her as his mate, his Queen. He loved his people, but he loved her more. Loved their sons more. Things he could never bring himself to say. But he could feel them. And through their bond, she would feel them too.

Even now, as she lay in his arms, he dreaded that she might ask him about it. But he knew his woman too well.

She couldn't keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it.

“So, Vegeta,” she said softly, waking him from his light sleep. He could feel her weight on top of him, slight as it was. The sensation of her bare flesh against his, her voluptuous breasts resting on his chest—close enough to taste— the moist inviting warmth of her precious womanhood that was his alone, pressing into his groin, made him shiver with desire for her.

But he knew the look in her eyes. She wanted to talk.

“Yes?” he asked, reaching up with both hands brush her lovely hair out of her face.

“When were you planning on telling me about this woman who's expecting to marry you?” Only he would be able to notice the barest touch of insecurity behind her façade of amused sarcasm. He took her face in his hands and brought her lips to meet his.

I told you there's nothing to talk about… He kissed her tenderly, hoping as much to reassure her as to avoid the conversation in the same way he had twice already. The scent of her renewed arousal was intoxicating, as he rubbed himself against her heat, stiffening at the mere hint of her desire to have him again. His tail wound around her waist, holding her close as he rolled her onto her back. His knee moved to part her legs gently, his erection throbbing in anticipation of her gloriously wet warmth…

“No, Vegeta.”

A ki blast to the face could not have shocked him more. He opened his eyes to stare at her, and knew at once that despite her obvious desire for him, she had no intention of letting him get away with it this time. Not without talking.

“Woman, please. There is nothing to say. I've given you my memories already; there is nothing I've kept back—”

“Vegeta, come on,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “I only saw fuzzy images…Please?” Her lips caught his as she lifted her pelvis to tease his impatient member. Gods, all this time he had thought he was the one in control…

“What is there to tell, woman?” he said in a hushed whisper, his eyes closing as her touch drove him wild.

“Is she pretty?” she asked in a pouting voice, stroking the tip of his tail as it wound tighter around her of its own accord.

He could only groan in reply. How the hell did she expect him to speak coherently when she was teasing every erogenous zone on his body?

“Sorry…” she said softly, releasing his tail. The furry appendage curled around her arm, refusing to be turned away. “Oh, you like this?” she purred, stroking it again.

“You are an evil woman,” he croaked.

“You think so, huh?” In the cruelest act possible, she lifted herself off of him, detaching his tail from her arm and leaving his now painful erection exposed to the cool air and mourning the loss of her warmth.

“Get back here, woman!” he ordered, his frustration making it sound like more of a command than he'd wanted it to.

With shameless insolence she ignored him, rising from the bed and reaching for something in the pocket of the the clothes she'd discarded earlier.

“What the hell are you doing?” he complained, sitting up in bed. “Bulma!”

“Since you don't want to talk about what happened while you were gone, I thought I'd show you what I've been up to.”

“Huh?” The smirk on her face was too much like his own for comfort. It was like the predatory look of satisfaction he gave when he was about to—

“Ahhh!”

The involuntary cry of pain escaped his lips as he fell back flat on the bed. The dizzying agony had lasted but a moment, replaced instead by a numbing paralysis as the energy was sapped from his body. He struggled to sit up, but fell back, devoid of the strength needed for that simple movement.

“Oh my gosh, Vegeta, are you all right?” There was real panic on her face, the same he had felt at the moment his body had been instantaneously drained.

What kind of an idiotic question is that to ask?! What the fuck did you do to me?!

“Are you in pain?” she asked, hovering over his face.

The sight of her huge breasts hanging over him—did she even realize she was still naked?—provided him with absolute proof that his body was nowhere near numb. His entire body was stiff and unmoving, but one part of his anatomy stood stiffly at attention.

“No,” he managed, finding he could will his mouth to move. “But would you mind explaining just what that fucking thing is that you shot me with?”

She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that he was truly unhurt, just intolerably weak. Oh, and she did notice the part of him that was very much alive and well. She grinned as she touched his tip lightly, swirling the pre-ejaculate juices around his engorged head. “I see you still have feeling at least…”

He found himself moaning in reply as she stroked him gently.

“It's a ki disrupter,” she explained, though it was even more difficult to concentrate on her words than to try to move. “It temporarily drains the subject of all energy. In a few minutes your body should compensate for the loss of ki, and you'll get your strength back. I'm not sure how long it takes for your ki to be replenished. But it's only temporary.”

“You could have warned me…” he breathed, enjoying her caress too much to be annoyed at her.

Now, I don't suppose you went to all this trouble just to get back at me when I piss you off.

“No,” she said, caressing him lovingly. “Just a little something to make sure I'm not completely helpless whenever you're not around.”

He had to admit he was impressed. Gods, what were the implications of such a device? If they were to get in the hands of Vegeta-sei's enemies…

“Don't worry,” she assured him, reading his thoughts. “This is just for personal use. I don't plan on mass-producing them.”

He looked at her through slanted eyes. “Just what do you plan on doing?” he asked huskily as she climbed over to straddle him.

“Oh, I don't know…maybe just see what it's like to be the more powerful one for a little while…”

What power! Here was the strongest man in the entire Universe—not to mention the sexiest—

and he was lying motionless below her, like a helpless captive. So often he liked to take charge of their lovemaking—now it was her turn. To tease him, torture him, and pleasure him—and herself—to her heart's content.

“Well, if you're going to rape me, woman, get on with it,” he mocked her with his words, though his thoughts were begging her to finish what she had started.

“I think you could put that obnoxious mouth of yours to much better use,” she said seductively. For the briefest moment she touched her lips to his, long enough to leave him reaching weakly up for more. But she had a better idea. Placing her hands on the mattress on either side of his head, she dangled her breasts just beyond his reach, driving him insane with the effort to grab one in his mouth, then finally letting him suckle at each one in turn. He loved her breasts, and she damn well knew it. He certainly stared at them enough. This was his treat, his appetizer…

“Oh!” She couldn't help but cry out as his tongue twirled around her sensitive bud, and a wave of heat flushed through her body, settling between her legs. The slick nectar of her arousal called to him, and he looked up at her with a mischievous look in his eyes.

See what you do to me? she thought dreamily as she hovered over him.

Let me see…Let me taste it… Please… The erotic suggestion of his sensuous tones resounding in her mind made her entire body shiver with want. Gingerly she moved up, placing her knees where her hands had been, trembling with anticipation as she positioned her most private place above his mouth. His hot breath made her quiver with her need for his touch. Then, all at once, he was…kissing her, tasting her, lapping at her juices, exploring her with his tongue, sucking at the nub of her pleasure until she felt she would explode. At your service, my Princess, he thought to her in a teasing subservience, though she knew without caring that he had once again taken control of the situation. I am your humble servant…

Without realizing it she began rubbing herself against him, the roughness of his stubble only intensifying the pleasure. Then, without warning, she climaxed, crying out his name…

She didn't dare to move as his tongue surveyed her pulsing core. Finally, spent, she moved down to lie against him for a moment, snuggling against his warmth. Like a flagpost his virility stood in all its beautiful grandeur, patiently waiting for her attention. Getting on her knees, she bent down to take him into her mouth…

No…Ride me… She wasn't sure if he had consciously sent the thought or not, but she certainly wasn't going to ignore his wishes after what he had just done for her. Straddling him once more, she slowly began to lower herself onto him, not surprised that she was once again ready for him. Vegeta moaned out loud as she covered his length, taking him in deeper than she had imagined possible. Mustering the little energy she had left herself, she began to pump against him, squeezing him from the inside as she pulled away, then crashing down hard to push him in deeper. In his current state, he could do nothing but lie motionless below her as she kept their bodies in rhythm. Soon his pelvis began reaching up to meet her, and suddenly his hands were on her hips, helping quicken the pace. She was so close, and she knew he was too…she could feel his pleasure as if it were her own, and knowing what she was doing to him only made her hotter… The burning sensation was near fever pitch, when suddenly it reached between them, the furry appendage that rubbed gently against her clit to bring her over the brink…

He erupted inside her, pouring his seed into that beautiful place that he had cherished so thoroughly. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly, too filled with emotion to speak. It had been nothing short of pure ecstasy.

He'd quickly gotten over the annoyance at her stunt as the role of helpless love slave fulfilled some perverse fantasy he'd never even known he'd had. Put simply, it was a turn-on. Having those huge breasts in his face hadn't hurt…

Even when his strength had begun to return, he'd played along, caught up in the game. He didn't mind letting her think she held power over him. The truth was that she did, though it had nothing to do with physical strength. That fact had once frightened him, but now it filled him with a sense of…completion.

In his embrace he could feel her physical exhaustion, though her brilliant and headstrong mind had not lost focus. She still wanted to know more about…that ridiculous girl who was not fit to breathe the same air as his woman. She looked up at him now, aware of his thoughts, and he gave her finally what she wanted.

“Okay, you want to know what she looks like? I'll tell you. She looks like Radditz.”

“Excuse me?” she said, confused. “You mean, Goku's brother?”

“Yes. Down to the long black hair and widow's peak. Replete with overdeveloped muscles that make her look more like an athlete than a woman. So, are you still concerned? Because frankly, I can't tell you a bigger turnoff than the thought of being with a woman who looks like one of my men.”

She laughed then, a beautiful laugh, so free of the anxiety she'd shown before. Was that all it would have taken to make her smile? So much easier it could have been…but so much less enjoyable!

“It's just another ploy, Bulma,” he said looking into her eyes. “Another pathetic attempt of my father's to fuck up my life. So now that that's over with—“ He brushed a few blue strands from her eyes. “Do you think you could let me get a little sleep? We've only got about five hours left, and if I'm going to have to destroy anyone, I need my rest.”

Her response was to cuddle against him. All he could think as he fell into a deep sleep was that he needed to have a few more conversations like this one….