Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Variations of Fate ❯ Exigency ( Chapter 11 )

There really is something different about him. Ava mused, elegant brow furrowing as she glanced toward the end of her cot where the sleeping form of her younger brother rose and fell with the deep breaths of undisturbed sleep. I've almost a bad feeling about it. Something just isn't right...Nothing's felt right since the announcement that the Saiyans' own Prince would be returning...Sukena's been more of a bitch lately than usual.

Ava carefully slid off her cot and landed silently on the floor. She leaned toward the cot, rummaged around a moment, and pulled out a container filled with printouts, readouts and other assorted files. In fact, this particular container held all the files she'd managed to pick up around Vegeta Palace. All discarded and all quite interesting.

She picked up one and straightened its edges. Sukena. Saiyan. Female. Power level 7500. Highly favored as Prince Vegeta's consort. Ava's eyes skimmed the paper while her mind ruminated over the data. She skimmed down. Savoya. Saiyan. Female. Power level 2000. Personal body guard to Lady Sukena. She set the paper back down and picked up a stack of neatly organized albeit crinkled papers. This stack contained quite a bit of information on Prince Vegeta -- including pictures and conquests while amongst Frieza's minions. She flipped a page. More power level stats -- Ava would have to read up on whatever those were.

The files Ava kept all had one thing in common -- the key players were all the same. King Vegeta. Prince Vegeta. Sukena. Other eligible Saiyan females, possibly for a harem should the Prince's chosen not produce a proper heir.

As Ava flipped through a stack of papers she'd snagged from Sukena's quarters, one word continually stood out and its repetition was mind-boggling. Bonding? Saiyan bonding? Both brows popped up above widening eyes. Ava snatched up a folder and placed them inside. There is definitely something to look into...maybe I can get Rory's help.

Cuff began to stir. Ava quickly replaced all her papers and shoved the container beneath the cot. "Cuff, sweetie? It's time for you to go to your own bed," she whispered and helped the half-sleeping boy to his own room.

A crystalline glass was held against full, smirking lips, which opened the barest amount to allow the most delicate of sips to pass through them. The glass descended and the cold, condescending laughter of Lord Frieza rippled through the room while the smirk remained intact.

The day of the fight had arrived -- Zarbon versus the Saiyan brat -- and it was sure to be an excellent, if one-sided match. But that was how Lord Frieza liked things -- in favor of his legions. Zarbon would assuredly win this, even if the green man were again forced to transform. Lord Frieza's followers would win. Such was the bet and the sure way of life.

The comm unit blipped: "My lord, they ready themselves. The ring is being prepared."

Full, blood-colored lips pulled into a dangerous smirk and sinister laughter emitted between them. Lord Frieza was prepared for the Saiyan's last humiliation on his ship. Lord Frieza would laugh more heartily afterward. Then the true experiment would begin...

"My Prince, they call you to be ready," Nappa intoned, bowing submissively before his master, the others kneeling behind Nappa at a safe distance from their Prince. Nappa's balding head gleamed in the ship's overhead lighting, and Prince Vegeta winced and haughtily diverted his gaze.

"Up with you, fool, and get me ready! Bring me my armor!" He demanded loudly, and then sent a swift kick into Nappa's knee. He had not forgotten Zarbon's words, and the day's dawning had only brought further bitterness into the young prince's demeanor.

Nappa's lip quivered as he stood and motioned for one of his subordinates to bring over the armor. The Saiyans cautiously belted the plates into place and backed away, their own lips quivering at the furious glare they each received from their lord.

Vegeta looked at himself in the mirror. The perpetual scowl increased as the Prince inspected his appearance, a scowl that clearly showed the Prince's displeasure with something about himself.

Zarbon entered the ring, right hand toying with the end of his braid. His expression schooled to be carefully equivocal, though the barest of smirks nearly broke those practiced obscurities and the worrying fingers in the frays of his braid betrayed unfathomable impatience. Where was that bloody Saiyan? Had it no understanding of what a set time meant?

No. Zarbon thought irritably to himself, his brows knitting momentarily, then smoothing conveniently as he looked up at Lord Frieza. He tossed his braid over his shoulder. Things just do not start without the brat, and he must steal my perfectly good entrance with a fashionably late one. The edge of his lip lifted in a snarl, then smoothed out yet again.

Lord Frieza nodded down at him from where he was seated behind a reinforced transparent barrier. Zarbon bowed his head in acceptance of his lord's presence and then proceeded to pace to his side of the 'ring.' He glanced at a clock stationed above Lord Frieza's head and began pacing in his corner. Seconds, then minutes passed. Finally the metal door scraped open and in walked a scowling Vegeta. Zarbon's upper lip lifted in a snarl of pure hatred -- and Vegeta merely smirked at him.

"Gentlemen, please..." came the hissing, caressing tones of Lord Frieza. "This is merely an exhibition, but we must lay down a few ground rules first...No weaponry whatsoever. Carefully controlled energy attacks are quite all right, and are encouraged -- that is if you can muster them. The room is set to contain all energy blasts, and absorbs them. This is a show and excessive energy ricocheting everywhere can be quite distracting. This shall be entertainment at its finest, I'm certain..."

Prince Vegeta bristled at Frieza's words, his own lip lifting in a snarl. He crouched in a beginning stance, and Zarbon began much the same way. The two fighters stood facing one another, glaring, snarling, and waiting for the cue.

The sinister laughter of Lord Frieza pervaded the chamber, "Gentlemen...begin." As if on cue themselves, the spectators plastered their faces to the barrier, their loud cries of betting, cheering and booing muffled inside the ring.

Prince Vegeta will certainly be pleased by my appearance ... Sukena twisted and turned before the mirror, reveling in her reflected image with overindulgent satisfaction that spread across her features as egotistical rapture and pealed between her smirking lips in the form of an eerily titillating laugh.

A single hand trailed along the curve of her breasts, down the bodice of her gown, to her stomach and then across the lines of her waist and hips. Awe spread momentarily over her lips to be quickly replaced by immense pleasure in the appearance that Sukena had come to measure as the standard for all women -- Saiyan and non. She was simply perfect in her own thoughts, and perhaps in many ways, her form was perfect on Saiyan standards. It held the litheness, strength, sensuality and femininity that were all traits of Saiyan female beauty. And then, there was the matter of her tail, which stood out, flowing as she reveled in herself. It too held the litheness so necessarily for Saiyan beauty.

If one knew little else of Saiyans beyond their beastly ways and traditions, even their somewhat beastly appearances, one might suspect Sukena was little more than a bitch in heat, for that was the way she acted -- full of herself, her prospects and her ambitions. She was readying herself for a future mate already chosen. The only thing missing was the chosen, though Sukena seemed not to notice.

So Sukena was content to look at herself, twirling, laughing, cackling. Prince Vegeta would be seeing this perfection very soon, and Sukena was certain he would be pleased. After all, she was quite pleased with appearances herself.