Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Beyond Survival: Sole Survivors II ❯ A New Saiyan King ( Chapter 1 )

Beyond Survival

(Sole Survivors II)

 

By QueenSaiyajin

 

 

{This is the sequel to my AU-novel, Sole Survivors, which can be found on mediaminer.org as well as my own website, www.geocities.com/vegetabulmaromance. I strongly recommend reading the prequel first; there are, however, enough references in chapter 1 to remind those who haven't read it in a while of what happened in the first novel. As usual, there is some explicit Vegeta/Bulma lovemaking, so this novel is also rated NC-17. Anyone younger please do not read! I would also appreciate any and all feedback, as this is a work in progress. Please send comments to queensaiyajin@aol.com. I hope all those who asked for a sequel find it worth the wait. This is only chapter 1—a lot is going to happen! And of course, here is the standard disclaimer—I do not own Dragonball Z, and this is written purely for enjoyment. So, enjoy!}

 

Chapter One: The New Saiyan King

 

The frozen world lay below them, so far from its red dwarf sun that it had never known the light of day. How life had sprung from such unlikely conditions, Vegeta could only wonder. Then again, those abominations of nature, as cold and dark as their hostile planet, should not even be considered a form of life.

 

So this is Tsiru-sei. His son's words projected telepathically into his mind, reminding him that he was not alone. Though they had made the journey to Frieza's homeworld in two standard Saiyan space pods, the mental bond that he and Trunks had fostered over the last few months had made communication between them effortless. Vegeta still found it difficult to remember that the young man of twenty and the toddler at home were the same child. His son from the future had saved him from death, and his woman and child from unspeakable torture at the hands of the Tsiru-jin King Kold. Since then, Trunks had become a member of their family in his own right. Vegeta could not imagine their lives without him. For these reasons, and for Vegeta's desperate need to make up for the horrors he had been unable to protect this boy from, he had invited him along on this long overdue mission of pure, unadulterated vengeance.

 

No. This is Hell, Vegeta responded grimly to his son. Trunks knew that he referred to much more than the harsh conditions of the planet. This world had spawned the demon of his childhood, and, in another lifetime, that of his son's. No. This was not a source of life, but the birthplace of perverse torture and death. It's time, son.

 

Numb and yet empowered by a rage that had poisoned his soul for as long as he could remember, Vegeta brought up his ki, shielding himself in a protective glow as he threw open the hatch to his space pod and stepped into the void of space. He glanced at Trunks, who had done the same, and was staring down now at the frozen planet with a dark hatred in his eyes. For what Kold had done to this boy alone, Vegeta could have destroyed every Tsuri-jin in the galaxy. Even destroying Frieza as he had held Bulma in his obscene grasp, or blasting Kold after he had mercilessly slain their precious infant, had not assuaged the fury and anguish that these creatures had caused him. Until every last Tsuri-jin was dead, Vegeta would not rest easy.

 

For a brief moment, as he and his son raised their hands to deliver the final death to this treacherous world, a memory stirred his conscience. Hadn't he and Nappa stood just like this as they'd ruthlessly blasted the innocent world of Arlia out of existence? It had been a heartless, meaningless act of violence, something he had done merely because he could. Even to this day the evil of his earlier days made him shudder with guilt. His love for Bulma and for their sons had transformed him from the monster he once was—the monster his father had created and Frieza had nurtured. Would destroying this planet set him on the path of being that assassin once more? Or would the gods, and his people, see this as justice?

 

Now, Father? Trunks broke his reverie. He looked into the boy's eyes, where more anguish and pain dwelt than anyone should see in such a short lifetime. And his decision was clear. No beings this evil should be allowed to live. Vegeta nodded, and as one they fired.

 

The ki of a million beings flickered and died with the doomed world, as father and son watched silently, each dwelling in his own sickened feeling of peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“This is Vegeta-sei Space Control. Unidentified space pods, identify immediately!”

 

The voice over the comm system stirred Vegeta from a restless sleep and he growled grumpily as he pushed the button to turn on his video screen.

 

“This is King Vegeta,” he told the startled officer.

 

“Oh, Your Majesty, I didn't—no one told us you were off-planet, Sire,” the young Saiyan stammered.

 

“It's nobody's damned business,” he replied gruffly, though inwardly he smiled in satisfaction. He hadn't felt comfortable leaving Bulma and his family alone, for fear that some enemy might take advantage of his absence. But he and Trunks had managed to slip out unnoticed. Good. They'd done their job and returned before anyone had realized they were gone. “Prince Trunks is in the other pod. Notify the Queen that we will be arriving on the Western side of the palace.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty!” the flight controller replied before Vegeta flicked off the screen.

 

Vegeta glanced at the reddish world below. His world. To rule. To protect. To guide into a new era. He still found it hard to believe that his planet and his people had been brought back to life by those mystical dragonballs that together he and his woman had found. He remembered the old Namek's warnings that Vegeta would be responsible now for the actions of his people. Under his father's rule, they had been ruthless killers and slaves to Frieza. Vegeta had vowed, to himself and his people, that the Saiyan race would be deserving of this second chance. They would be great, but without loss of honor. They would be respected throughout the Galaxy, not loathed and feared as they had once been. At times it seemed an insurmountable task that had found obstacles at every turn. But if the progress of the past six months meant anything, then the Saiyan Empire would prevail and flourish. This King Vegeta would bring glory and honor to his people.

 

He would be everything his father had not been.

 

The pod touched down and he sprang from the hatch to see Trunks waiting for him. “Come on, Dad, Mom and Cordera are going to kill us. It's almost time.”

 

Vegeta eyed his son with mock reproach. “Are you saying that you, a crown prince of Vegeta-sei, are afraid of your woman?”

 

Trunks grinned. “Cordera is a lot like Mom, Dad. She's got a temper.”

 

“Then you're very wise,” Vegeta confided, as his own Queen came running to him. True to form, she was screaming from the moment she saw him.

 

“Vegeta, are you crazy? You were supposed to be back last night! Where the hell have you been!? You still need to shower and change—”

 

“Woman, I will not have you speaking to me in that tone in public,” he retorted, though his anger was feigned; he knew that she had come alone to meet him.

 

“That's why I told your guards to get lost,” she replied, winking at him as she threw her arms around his neck.

 

He was glad that she had. There would have been no way to conceal his relief as he held her protectively against him. He didn't want to even think of the nightmarish visions he had had of what he might find upon returning home. Six months of relative calm had not diminished his fear of what his enemies might do to her or their child. Especially now, as the new heir she carried became even more apparent.

 

“I've only been gone two days and you seem to have grown,” he teased her as he pushed the dark thoughts away.

 

“Are you saying I don't look good in my new gown?” she pouted self-consciously.

 

“No, simply that I won't be able to put my arms around you if you get much bigger,” he replied without the hint of a smile.

 

For some reason, the hormonal changes in her body during this pregnancy had made her more irrational than ever. He sensed her about to start ranting again, and silenced her with a kiss, projecting into her mind, Don't be foolish, woman. As far as I'm concerned, you are more beautiful right now than you have ever been.

 

He could tell she had heard him by the way she returned his kiss deeply. She'd known what she was doing in coming alone to meet him. Though he had been fairly demonstrative with his family in public, that fear of seeming weak was so ingrained that he still kept himself guarded when others were around. And particularly now, in her present state, he felt so overprotective of her that it was embarrassing. But his enemies had already given him cause to fear for the lives of those he loved. They had known from the start what his family meant to him, and had used it against him when they'd kidnapped baby Trunks. Those traitorous bastards had paid with their lives, in a show of force that would make others think twice before crossing their new king. Yet still, Vegeta could not shake his feeling of unease.

 

He broke their kiss reluctantly. “Did anything happen in our absence? Were there any problems?”

 

“No, but there will be if you don't hurry and get changed. The wedding ceremony is supposed to start in an hour.”

 

He frowned. It was a topic he had tried to put out of his mind. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Trunks and his woman engaged in their own reunion, and he wasn't sure if he was annoyed at his son for being so emotional in public or if he envied him his ability to do so without guilt or concern. “Vegeta, come on, ” Bulma prodded him, grabbing him by the arm to pull him towards their suite.

 

“Woman, please, I am not some pet to be pulled along as if on a leash,” he complained irritably, shaking off her hand.

 

She put her face so close to his that he thought she would kiss him, but instead she smiled playfully and whispered, “I don't need a leash.” Her red lips grazed his, leaving the taste that begged for more. His entire being seemed to shake with his need for her, but in a moment she had turned away, walking away with a confidence that he would follow. “Take your time, Your Majesty,” she called sweetly behind her, “Just remember that they won't start without you, and I don't think you want to show up looking and smelling like that.”

 

He crossed his arms obstinately, refusing to submit to her. But as he watched her slink down the hallway, he knew that stubbornness held no reward as sweet as acquiescence. As soon as she was far enough away to begin to wonder if he would follow, he stomped off in her direction as if it were his own idea. He'd show her who ruled this palace…

 

 

 

Bulma smiled to herself as she turned into their private rooms. Even if she hadn't been able to sense him, she would have known that he was following her. He was so adorable when he was trying not to surrender to her will completely. But he always would in the end.

 

It wasn't one-sided, of course. Bulma was famous for her own stubborn streak. But in truth, she could deny Vegeta nothing. She had given up everything to be with him, and had never regretted it for a moment. She would stand beside him no matter what. But the verbal sparring between them was like foreplay. In physical strength she was as an insect to him. But in battles of wit and will she could hold her own. And she knew just what effect a mere touch or glance would have on him…

 

She stood by the door waiting patiently, her heart pounding with anticipation. Alone, things were always different. Alone, he would bare himself to her completely. Those were the moments she cherished. This beautiful suite that he had had prepared just for her was their private sanctuary, and the only place where she felt completely at peace.

 

What had once been the former King's Spartan living quarters had been transformed into what she could truly call a home. Vegeta had wanted any reminders of his father removed, and the construction crews had happily obliged, tearing down nearly an entire wing of the palace to be rebuilt to the new King's specifications. Vegeta's only requests had been practical ones, in terms of security. The nursery was to be adjacent to their bedroom, with rooms for the rest of their new family close enough for him to keep a watchful eye on them, while providing them all with ample privacy. Trunks and Cordera had their own suite, while Arnaki had a huge room of her own midway between her sister's and the baby's. An impregnable security system locked their wing off from the rest of the palace, and this was where they would spend their time whenever Vegeta was away.

 

Of course, this time had been different. It was the first time she and her mate had been separated since they'd first found themselves alone together on Namek. The first night she had slept alone. It had been unnerving to say the least. But her fears of falling victim to his enemies were only a part of her unease. Simply put, she'd missed him. Even the planning for today's wedding had not distracted her from the emptiness she felt within. This Saiyan bond was no myth. Being apart from him was…painful. She shuddered to think of what would happen, the gods forbid—

 

The door swished open and she looked up to smile demurely at him. His face was emotionless as he strode in, but as the door closed to their private world he scooped her up into his arms, kissing her hungrily. “Insolent woman,” he growled between kisses, reprimanding her as he carried her over to the bed. He lay her down gently, looking down at her sternly, though she could see the smile on the corner of his lips. “I shall have to teach you the proper way to greet the Saiyajin no Ou when he returns from off-world.”

 

“Maybe His Majesty shouldn't leave his Queen alone for two nights,” she pouted in retort, trying not to show the effect that he was having on her. But it was no use. As his warm hands gently slid into the top of her dress, her hardened nipples gave her away. He smirked in satisfaction as he bent his face down to taste her rigid nubs, the heat of his mouth sending a rush of warmth through her entire body. She forced herself to say, “Vegeta, no, please don't rip my—“

 

The sound of tearing fabric cut her off, as the dress she'd so carefully picked out for the wedding became shreds. But she couldn't muster the strength to be angry at him. Her body had physically ached for his touch, and as he reacquainted himself with every inch of her, she could only lie motionless in delight. She gasped as he ripped away her damp panties, delving into her moist warmth with one, then two fingers. She began to arch her pelvis towards him in time with his quickening pace, panting as he brought her closer and closer. Then his thumb joined in to rub against her sensitive nub, and at once she exploded in a blinding climax.

 

Utterly spent, she lay with her eyes closed as her body continued to pulsate with pleasure. Only when he withdrew his fingers did she lift her lids to look at him, watching in silence as he pulled off his own clothes, exposing the perfect form that made her want him again. She began to lift herself up, a chore in her present state, ready to repay him with her own lovemaking. But as he placed his hands over her swelled abdomen, caressing their growing child in seeming fascination, she stopped, so filled with emotion that she thought she would cry. She could feel his love for this child as surely as she could feel her own. But she could also sense his ever-present fear, that the birth would be as dangerous to her as their son's had been. She had nearly died, and had lain in a coma for weeks. No matter how much Bulma had tried to reassure him that things would be much easier here on Vegeta-sei,

with the advanced medical facilities at their disposal that had not been there the first time, she knew that he was driving himself insane with worry. He bent to kiss their child, then brought his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly. My turn, she thought to him as her hand smoothed down his chest to find his engorged arousal begging for her attention. She stroked him gently, rubbing the juices that had escaped him around his sensitive tip, loving his barely audible growl of pleasure. She guided him between her legs, letting him dip in her wet warmth to know she was ready for him. She could feel him throbbing with his desire, but he pulled away cautiously. She looked at him questioningly and saw the dark worry cross his brow. “I don't want to hurt her,” he whispered. “Are you sure—” She nodded to him silently, so touched by his concern for their daughter that she could not speak. Vegeta sighed deeply, looking down at her with a fear that wrestled with his desire. Finally, as he seemed to make his decision, he turned her to her side and lay down in back of her, spooning his body against hers. Then began an assault on every erogenous zone of her body. His lips planted light kisses on her neck and his hands caressed her breasts, even as his erection pushed between her legs from behind. She moved herself to take him in, crying out in delight as he carefully moved in and out of her, penetrating slightly deeper with each thrust. Bulma tensed her muscles to caress him from within, and she heard him cry out as she squeezed against him. He was so close, she could tell, yet was holding out to prolong these glorious sensations. Suddenly, as his pace seemed to quicken, he reached between her legs to stroke the source of her pleasure…

 

Then it happened. Even as he erupted within her, his spirit seemed to wrap itself around hers in that indescribable union of body and soul that was the Saiyan bond. The void she had felt over the last two days was suddenly filled with his essence once more, as his thoughts and emotions washed over her and intertwined with her own. It was that moment when even conscious thought between them became unnecessary. She knew him as she knew herself, and he in turn knew all that she had thought and felt in his absence. She was vaguely aware of his arms wrapping around her, his head burying itself in her shoulder, as the peace of their completeness washed over them. He had missed her too, longed for her, feared for her safety, more than he could ever admit aloud, and he wished for nothing more than to lie with her in his arms.

 

For a long while they lay together, bathed in the afterglow of their union, neither wanting to break the wordless connection that was always at its strongest after they had become one. But even as sleep threatened to overtake her, Bulma remembered that the others were waiting for them to begin the Saiyan wedding ceremony. “Vegeta,” she said gently, moving to get up.

 

He pulled her back down, turning her to face him and kissing her to silence her. He knew damn well where they had to be, but was purposely trying to avoid it. She fell captive to his kiss and cuddled against him for a few more minutes, before trying again to be the stronger between them. “Vegeta, come on, they're waiting…”

 

“You said they won't start without us,” he murmured, tightening his hold on her without even opening his eyes.

 

“Vegeta, you have to be there. For your mother. This is a very important day for her, and she wants you to be a part of it.”

 

His eyes shot open at the mention of his mother, the former Queen Rabia, and Bulma knew that her guilt had worked sufficiently. “I don't want to go,” he said in the tone of a stubborn child.

 

Bulma caressed his face. She knew what this was about. “Vegeta, she and Bardock love each other. You said yourself he's a good man, and you trust him with our lives. Your mother has gone through a lot. She deserves to be happy.”

 

She could feel him wrestling with his emotions. He knew, to his shame, that Bardock would treat her better than his own father, the last King Vegeta, had. It had only been six months ago that he had learned of his father's true treachery—that he had banished his own Queen, then let Vegeta believe that she had died in childbirth, simply because Queen Rabia had been wise enough to know that an alliance with Frieza would be disastrous. King Vegeta had then gone on with the fateful alliance out of fear, even sacrificing his own nine-year old son to the perverse monster. His foolishness had led to the destruction of the Saiyan race, and thirty years of torture for Vegeta, who had become a hardened, bitter assassin filled with rage and hatred. That had changed, of course, with Bulma, whose unconditional love had healed the wounds of a lifetime. With her at his side, he had faced the demons of his past and destroyed them. Meeting his mother had further filled the void of a difficult and loveless childhood. He wasn't ready to let go of his mother just yet. He knew without a doubt that she would have shaped him into a different kind of man, and would have found a way to save him from the torture of his youth. He needed her now to help guide him in being a better King than his father had been…a better man…

 

“I'm not…ready…to lose her again,” he admitted aloud to his mate with difficulty.

 

“Vegeta, you won't lose her,” she reassured him. “She'll still be here for you.”

 

“She'll be off in the country at Bardock's estate,” he replied dully.

 

Bulma smiled. “Oh, did I forget to tell you? As a wedding gift, we're having a beautiful house constructed for them right on the palace grounds. This way, Bardock can continue to be your right hand man, and your mother can be close to the rest of the family.”

 

His eyes opened wide. “Really? You…did this?” he asked incredulously.

 

“Mm-hm. And your Mother thought it was a great idea.”

 

“And Bardock?” he asked suspiciously.

 

“Let's say he'll do anything to make your Mother happy,” she told him with a grin. “He's going to make a perfect husband.”

 

Vegeta smirked at her implication, but was too happy right now to even think of a good response. “Well, then I suppose we should get ready for this wedding. You said something about me needing to bathe?”

 

“Yeah, well, thanks to you, I have to now, too, not to mention find a new dress to wear.”

 

“Good. Now that I've shown you how to properly greet your King when he returns from off-world, I will allow you to bathe me.”

 

“Only if you bathe me, too,” she said with a wink.

 

“We'll see,” he said with a grin, and she laughed as he picked her up and carried her to their bathing pool, ready for another round of lovemaking.

 

Vegeta was right. They wouldn't start without him anyway.

 

 

 

The palace gardens were in full bloom, and Vegeta drank in the sweet scents of his native planet. He had never considered the beauty of this place, and yet the unique aroma of Vegeta-sei's flora stirred memories long forgotten, of retreating to the seclusion of the gardens at night, especially after a difficult day of training with his father. Here he had found solitude and comfort, something that otherwise had been very rare. He would have to come back here again, perhaps share his secret place with his woman. He wondered idly if anyone would catch them alone here if they made love on the grass.

 

He pushed the erotic thoughts from his mind as he and Bulma made their entrance into the royal chapel. They were late, and would have to make their apologies. But it had been more than worth it.

 

Chibi Trunks was the first to see them, and flew from Arnaki's arms. “Papa!” he called excitedly.

 

Vegeta caught the toddler in mid-air, taking him in one arm to have a good look at him. “You've grown in two days, Trunks,” he told him, smiling at the boy's miniature version of his own Saiyan dress uniform. “Thank you for taking care of Mama while I was gone,” he told the boy confidentially, kissing him on the forehead. Even Bulma had insisted that there was no way the child, less than two years old, could possibly understand some of the things his father told him. But after what Vegeta had seen this boy do, he had no doubt that his son understood every word. His ki was exceptionally high, and he had even begun to form tiny balls of energy under his father's guidance. Vegeta knew that in the other timeline Trunks had gone Super Saiyan at a very young age. With his patience and training, he wouldn't be surprised if the boy went Super Saiyan within the year. Of course, Bulma had questioned the wisdom of teaching a boy to fight before he was even potty-trained. But the thought of showing the world that his son, the half-Saiyan son they had ridiculed, was more powerful than all of the Saiyan Elites, was just too tempting.

 

“So, Vegeta, you've finally decided to show up.” He looked up, startled by the words and tone of voice that no one, save for his mother or mate, would dare use with the Saiyan King.

 

“My apologies, Mother, but you know I had business off-world.”

 

Queen Rabia smiled knowingly at her son as she offered him her cheek to kiss, whispering in his ear, “So did Trunks, but he was here almost an hour ago.”

 

Vegeta's cheeks flushed with his embarrassment, and he glanced at Bulma, who was trying her best not to laugh. Luckily, Bardock saved him by walking up to take Rabia by the hand.

 

“With your permission, Your Majesty, could we please get this ceremony underway?”

 

Vegeta looked at them both as if for the first time. Bulma was right. Bardock was a good man, a trusted warrior and a friend. And Vegeta's mother, so lovely in her simple royal blue gown, with her raven hair flowing loosely about her shoulders, was radiating a happiness he had never seen, or even imagined he could see, in someone who had suffered as much as she. Vegeta's face softened into a genuine smile. “You have my permission, Captain. And my blessing.”

 

Bardock nodded gratefully, more than a little surprised. “Thank you, Ou-sama.” The two men had rarely spoken about the upcoming marriage, to the point where they had almost avoided the topic completely. It was the first time Vegeta had expressed his outright approval.

 

I'm proud of you, Bulma whispered in his mind. His mother was pleased too, and that made him glad.

 

He watched with interest now as his mother and Bardock took their place before the ceremonial altar. The high priestess stood to face them, a white-robed Saiyan not much older than the Queen Mother. It had been only two months ago that they had gathered here for Trunks and Cordera's nuptials, a simple but beautiful ceremony that had left Bulma in tears of joy and Vegeta in utter fascination. This was a side of Saiyan culture that he knew so little about. Though this ancient temple had served as the site of every royal religious ceremony since the first King Vegeta had taken this planet, Vegeta had probably only been here once or twice in his first nine years of life. His father had had little respect for the gods, worshipping strength and power far above the deities of Saiyan religion. Vegeta had grown up cursing the gods for the torture of his youth, depending more on himself and his own strength than on some intangible beings who had ignored his silent pleas for help. But as he stood with his family now, he knew that if the gods had cursed him with misfortune years ago, they had done nothing but bless him in the last two years. Twenty-four months ago, he had been a sole survivor of the Saiyan race, a prince with no one to rule, a warrior whose pride had been shattered over and over. The demon of his youth had transformed him into a killing machine with no conscience to speak of. Then, on Namek, that had all changed.

 

He glanced at Bulma, so beautiful with the glow of carrying his second child, knowing that she was living proof of the existence of the gods. Just as the boy squirming in his arms reminded him that the future lay in his lands. Even their son, from that other timeline where things had gone so terribly wrong, had found happiness with the young girl who had had everything taken from her by the former King Vegeta and his allies. Her little sister Arnaki, whom he and Bulma had formally adopted, was thriving despite the ordeal no child should have had to endure. Arnaki came to take the baby from his arms, and mouthed, “Welcome, back, Father,” as she smiled at him brightly. He returned her smile, and kissed her lightly on the head, putting his arm around her to hold her close as part of the family. Yes, life was good. If the gods had done this for him, then he would worship them gratefully.

 

“We have come here today to ask the gods for their blessing on this couple, Bardock and Rabia,” the priestess began. “They knew each other as children, fought together as warriors, and cared for each other as friends. Fate sent them in two directions, both to leave their mark on the Saiyan race forever. Bardock gave his life to protect his planet, and in the days since the Rebirth has served his people and his King, with great honor. Rabia, of course, became our beloved Queen, taken from us for so long, but returning to see her son become the Saiyan race's savior, and its King. Years and death separated them, but destiny brought them together once more, as if it had always been ordained by the gods. We ask the gods now to bless their union as they become mates. May they bond as one, and bring forth strong warriors to carry on their legacy.”

 

“Let it be so,” the crowd murmured in response.

 

Vegeta watched as they drank wine from the ceremonial goblet, contemplating those words. It had never occurred to him that his mother could have more children. She was older than Bardock, having lived through the years after Vegeta-sei's destruction. But in Saiyan terms, thirty years was nothing. She was still in her prime, and still of child-bearing years. She had already brought forth the strongest warrior of all time, he thought indignantly. And Bardock had sired Kakarot, second in strength only to Vegeta. Until this moment it had never dawned on him that a mixture of her blood and Bardock's could very well produce a warrior even more—No. I am the legendary reborn. No child of theirs could match me in power.

 

I think you're just a little jealous that she might have another baby, Bulma broke into his thoughts.

 

Stay out of my head, woman! he shouted irritably in her mind, nearly making her jump. But even as he brooded over this, he wondered if she wasn't right.

 

 

 

 

Bulma raised her chalice with the others as Vegeta toasted the new couple and wished them decades together. She wondered idly just how long Saiyans lived. The Queen Mother was still a beautiful woman, and the thirty years that she had aged while Bardock had lived only in spirit in Other World was hardly noticeable. Vegeta had diplomatically avoided ever answering her questions about the Saiyan life span, knowing her all too well. The thought of growing old while he was still in his prime was not something that sat very well with her. She knew she was beautiful now at barely thirty, and her King was thoroughly in her thrall. But what would happen when she was sixty and seventy? Would he still find her as desirable as he did now?

 

As if sensing her sudden insecurity, most likely a product of the mood swings that pregnancy had made an everyday occurrence, Vegeta sipped from his glass and set it down, coming to slip his hands around her waist from behind. His hot breath made her shiver as he whispered in her ear in sultry tones, “Is this the kind of ceremony that you would like, my Queen?”

 

Their plans for an official ceremony had been postponed with her pregnancy. Getting married in a maternity dress was not her idea of a dream wedding. “I don't know,” she said, leaning back against him. “I still think it would be nice to do it back on Earth, with all my friends and family there.” She didn't voice aloud her other hesitation about a wedding on Vegeta-sei. No matter how many times Vegeta had assured her that Saiyans did not need a ceremony in order to consider themselves mated, she couldn't help but feel that bringing attention to the fact that they had never legally been joined would only add fuel to the arguments of those who still questioned, even in private, the legitimacy of Vegeta's marriage to an alien woman, and the heirs of that union. She'd only suggested this to him once, and he'd gone on a tirade about how he would destroy anyone who dared question his choice of Queen, or the sons she had bore him. He would do it, too, and everyone who had witnessed his wrath as he'd murdered his father knew it as well. He'd ascended to Super Saiyan 4 that day, in an explosion of ki that had been felt throughout the planet. No one had dared cross him since.

 

“Whatever you wish, my Queen,” he said softly in her ear, brushing his lips against her skin. Gods, had it suddenly gotten warm in here, or was she that sensitive to his slightest touch?

 

He released her gently as Goku came towards them, smiling in that goofy way that was his own. She was glad her best friend and his family had decided to stay on Vegeta-sei. Gohan had become like a brother to her sons, and Goku, with a loyalty as great as his strength, had become one of Vegeta's two most trusted friends and warriors, the other being, of course, his father Bardock. And Chichi…well, she was Chichi. Though their improved living conditions over the tiny house on Mt. Pao had given her less to complain about, she still fretted incessantly about Gohan's education.

 

“So, Vegeta, your Mom and my Dad are finally married. You know what that makes us now, don't you?” Goku said cheerily.

 

“Related by marriage, Kakarot,” Vegeta replied dryly, avoiding the “b” word like a plague.

 

“Come on, Vegeta, say it,” Bulma teased him. “Goku is your little brother.”

 

He shot her a dirty look but she knew he wasn't as annoyed as he seemed. Compared to all the roles he had taken on in the past year, brother was hardly the most difficult to adjust to.

 

Undaunted, Goku said, “So, does this mean I can call you—?”

 

“—Vegeta,” the King supplied, not willing to even let Goku finish his question. “—instead of Ou-sama, or Vegeta-Ou, as you should.”

 

“But I already do,” Goku complained. “Come on, Veg, I'm your brother now—“

 

“You'll be my dead brother if you ever call me `Veg' again,” Vegeta warned, his patience for the other Saiyan waning.

 

“I'll make you a deal,” Goku said with a grin. “We spar, and if I can beat you, I get to call you Nissan, or Veg, or whatever I feel like.”

 

Vegeta smirked, the prospect of a good battle catching his interest. “Fine, Kakarot. And when I defeat you, you'll vow never again to remind me that we are…related.”

 

“Deal,” Goku agreed excitedly. “Come on, let's get at it,” he said, turning as if relieved to finally find an excuse to leave the party.

 

Bulma opened her mouth to protest, but her husband silenced her with a kiss. “Be back in a few minutes,” he promised, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

 

She sighed as she watched him run after her best friend, who was now her…brother-in-law? Oh well. Boys will be boys.

 

“Hey Mom, where did Dad go?” Trunks asked curiously, coming over to her.

 

“Oh, just to spar with Goku,” she told him matter-of-factly. Such sparring sessions had become part of the daily routine for both Vegeta and Goku and their sons. She just hadn't thought it would intrude on what was supposed to be a marriage celebration. But she could see the same love of battle spark in her son's eyes, making him look so much like Vegeta, and she smiled. “I know, you want to watch, right?”

 

“Can we, Trunks?” Gohan asked anxiously, hoping to get in on some of the action himself.

 

Bardock came up behind them, having overheard the conversation, and grinned. “Come on, boys. I'll go with you. Whoever gets there first gets to face the winner.” With that the Saiyan took off, Trunks and Gohan eagerly following him.

 

Cordera looked at Bulma in surprise, and Bulma just shrugged.

 

“I thought this was supposed to be a wedding celebration,” the young woman said.

 

Queen Rabia came up to them, putting her hand on Cordera's shoulder. “My dear, that is how Saiyans celebrate. Eat heartily, drink, and then fight until they're a bloody mess.”

 

“Can't we go to watch too, Mother?” Arnaki pleaded Bulma. The young girl loved to watch her adopted father spar, and was as proud of him as if she had been raised by him her entire life. Perhaps it was because Vegeta had saved her and her sister from their fate as pleasure slaves, after their planet had been destroyed; or perhaps it was the way he had doted on her since she had become part of their family. She simply adored him, and Bulma knew Vegeta felt the same.

 

“Why not?” Bulma said, gathering Baby Trunks into her arms. “I know where they like to spar. We'll go there by air car.”

 

 

 

 

Kakarot was tough. He'd give him that. Vegeta had already broken at least one of his ribs, and still the fool would not give up. The face of Mount Zanahor now bore a permanent imprint of Kakarot's body, the result of a particularly strong blast that had thrust him deep into the rock. Vegeta had taken a few hits, but nothing of consequence. The bigger Saiyan was no real challenge whatsoever. That fact in itself began to nag at Vegeta as Kakarot seemed content to allow his King to be the victor. Was Kakarot…toying with him?

 

“Is that all you've got, Kakarot?” Vegeta taunted, though he was beginning to suspect that it wasn't. They'd both gone Super Saiyan, yet Vegeta was obviously holding back his true power. Was it possible that Kakarot could be doing the same? The thought of such an insult angered him suddenly, as he grabbed his opponent by the neck. “Are you holding back on me? I will not tolerate that, Kakarot!” With that he threw the other man to the ground, daring him to push to his own limits.

 

“I thought this was just a friendly sparring match,” Kakarot said, flying back up to face him, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

 

“I am the King of all Saiyans. I will not have you insult my pride by using any less that your full power.”

 

“Are you sure you're ready for that?” Kakarot had the gall to respond.

 

“Is that a challenge, Kakarot?!” Vegeta spat at him.

 

“Only if you're up to it,” the other replied, seeming to relish the opportunity.

 

“Then so be it!” With the fury of a king whose very pride seemed to hang in the balance, Vegeta released the rage within, the frustration of all that seemed to plague his subconscious thought suddenly rising with his ki to the surface. He could feel the exhilaration and pain as his face seemed to transform, his body bulging with power, his hair extending to his waist, a blinding golden mane. The mountains themselves seemed to shake apart with his transformation, yet still the clown who challenged him looked on with an infuriating absence of awe that he should display in the face of such power.

 

“Can you match this, Kakarot?!” he dared.

 

A strange smile seemed to cross the fool's face as he began his own ascension, beyond Super Saiyan, beyond the Ascendant Stage he had shown his king, into…into…

 

Vegeta's eyes opened wide as Kakarot stood before him, transformed for the first time into a Super Saiyan 3. “Let's go for it, Vegeta,” he said in a voice lower than his own.

 

Pure shock was quickly replaced with blind fury. “How long did you plan to hide this from me, Kakarot?! Were you simply waiting for your chance to defy me and take my throne?!” he accused.

 

“What are you talking about?” Kakarot asked with a confusion that surely must be feigned. “Why would I want to do that?”

 

“Because it is Saiyan tradition! Strength alone is respected among our people, and strength alone will keep the royal line in power! You may have forgotten your place, Kakarot, because your father wed the Queen Mother, and my Queen considers you as a brother, but you are still a third-class warrior, and neither you nor your offspring, nor any other child your father sires will ever take what rightfully belongs to me and to my sons!” His fist met with Kakarot's face before the other could respond, his kneecap bashing into the bigger Saiyan's stomach, making him keel over in pain even as Vegeta's Galick Gun at close range sent him smashing into the rocks below. Vegeta was on him again before he could recover, sending a furious wave of ki blasts at the man until his body gave up the effort to lift itself from the ground. Vegeta flew down to stand over him, a malicious smirk on his face as he glared down at the fallen Saiyan, whose features were rapidly morphing back into Super Saiyan, the golden flecks in his hair beginning to flicker back to black.

 

“Had enough, Kakarot?” he taunted as he powered back down to Super Saiyan.

 

“You're wrong, Vegeta…” Kakarot choked out, blood coming out of his mouth. “There's more than strength…to being a good ruler.”

 

“Hah! That's easy for you to say as you lay there defeated.” He knew in his heart there was some truth to Kakarot's words, and yet something inside him would not let him acknowledge that now.

 

It was then that Kakarot struggled painfully to pull himself to a sitting position, his expression serious as he replied, “I say it because you're my friend. And I couldn't care less about ruling the Saiyan Empire. You know that. When I spar with you it's for the challenge, and the fun.”

 

Vegeta fought against his better judgment to accept the man at his word, his pride still wounded by the fact that his so-called friend had actually kept his ascension a secret. “A king can't afford to have friends,” he replied harshly. The memory of Rossdark's betrayal, which had resulted in King Kold's capture of Bulma and their infant son, still stung him. He had considered the man a friend. Wouldn't Kakarot and his father just as likely betray him?

 

“I'd say a king can't afford not to have friends,” Kakarot retorted, with a seeming insight that was particularly unnerving coming from him. Vegeta was about to consider his words, until the fool voiced the worst possible insult of all. “Is that you speaking, when you say you don't need friends? Or is it your father?”

 

The fury that welled in him suddenly outweighed any sense Kakarot had made, and Vegeta lifted his hands to form a huge ball of ki aimed directly at his opponent's face.

 

“Vegeta, stop it!”

 

The sound of his woman's voice made him lose his focus, and he turned in annoyance to see her running from the aircar, followed by his mother, Cordera and Arnaki. The latter had a wide-eyed expression that filled him with shame. The child loved watching him spar, but what he had been about to do was far more extreme, and she, as well as all the other onlookers, were painfully aware of it. In his peripheral vision he saw Bardock, Trunks and Gohan, who had obviously come to watch the match and had steered clear as they'd realized the intensity of the resulting battle.

 

“Vegeta, what are you doing? That's enough! Can't you see he's hurt?” Her sympathy for this man was infuriating him to no end, as she came over to them, Chibi Trunks flying at his mother's side.

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Bulma?” he asked pointlessly, trying to obscure his shame in anger.

 

“We thought we were coming to watch you two spar, not try to kill each other,” she replied, her blue eyes flaring.

 

I will not have you speak to me this way, woman, he warned in her mind.

 

Then don't act like a jerk, and I won't have to say anything! She shot back angrily.

 

“I'd say the celebration and wine have gone to their heads, my Queen,” Bardock said diplomatically as he bent at his son's side to examine his wounds. “There's no harm done.”

 

“Did you know, Bardock?” Vegeta accused. “Did you also keep secret from me the fact that Kakarot had ascended to Super Saiyan 3?”

 

Bardock stood to face him, his eyes opening wide. “Super Saiyan 3?” He looked back at Kakarot's prone form, shaking his head in amazement. “I had no idea, but I must say I'm not surprised.”

 

“Then you foresaw this in one of your visions?” Vegeta charged, considering this as no different in a man who could predict the future.

 

“No, Ou-sama, I didn't. But Kakarot's strength is second only to yours, and after six months of sending him to the Regen Tanks time and again, you had to imagine that the Saiyan Healing Factor would only increase his strength.”

 

How had Vegeta failed to see this as the logical result of beating the man to a pulp as they'd sparred each day?! He was furious at himself for contributing to what now seemed in his mind a sure threat to his power. But he directed his self-rage at Bardock as he warned, “No one will surpass me! I am the Legendary reborn, and I will allow no one to challenge my power!”

 

Something in his words seemed to stir a hidden anger in Bardock as the older man replied, “Take care not to be consumed by such fears, Ou-sama. They will be your undoing.”

 

“Is that a threat, Bardock?” Vegeta retorted indignantly, feeling his ki rising.

 

“I pose no threat to you, Vegeta-Ou,” Bardock replied. “I vowed my loyalty to you long before I pledged the same to your mother. And to doubt Kakarot's loyalty to you and to the Queen would be utter foolishness. But fear of being surpassed has driven men to turn against their most loyal friends and allies. Didn't Frieza murder my men, and then destroy our world because he feared we were becoming too strong?”

 

The mere mention of his former master, the man who had made his life a living hell, made his blood boil as electricity sparked from his body. “I am not Frieza!” he boomed, using every ounce of will to suppress the urge to blast the man who had dared make such a comparison, knowing that if he did so he would be fulfilling that very prophecy.

 

“Of course you're not.” His mother's soothing tone and her hand on his arm were like a balm to the wound that Bardock's words had reopened. “You're not Frieza, and you're not your father,” she reaffirmed. “Now, I think this has gone far enough. Bardock, take Kakarot to a Regen tank, and I will meet you back at your estate, all right?”

 

Bardock hesitated a moment, but then obeyed silently, lifting his son's unconscious form in his arms and flying off, Gohan following silently behind.

 

Vegeta poised to take off but his mother's hand held him back. “Your father would go off by himself and brood. You are going to be with your family.”

 

Her words chilled him. Going off to be alone was precisely what he would be inclined to do. “I…am…not…him…” he ground out quietly, more a pledge to himself than a response to his mother.

 

“No, Vegeta,” she told him seriously, looking him in the eyes. “But he spent the first nine years of your life trying to poison your mind to his thinking, then turned you over to that vile abomination who tried to train you to be a heartless murderer. You are not like them, and I thank the gods for that. You have a good heart, my son, and your love for your wife and your family have saved you. But you must guard yourself against the venomous influence of your youth. Do not lose sight of who you are, and what is truly important to you.”

 

He nodded slowly, glad when she pulled him close to hug him against her, something he'd needed desperately but would have never had the nerve to initiate himself. Once more the little boy within him who'd had his childhood brutally torn away mourned all he had lost by not having this woman to raise him and give him direction. But she was here now, he reasoned, and she was right. He was losing sight of what was truly important.

The beautiful woman who was gazing at him with such sadness in her enormous blue eyes, ready to cry for him the tears he could not. The children looking at him for strength, and the unborn child who would be part of his legacy.

 

“Let's go home.” He headed towards the aircar, slipping his arm around Bulma's shoulders as she walked at his side, her light kiss on the cheek a promise of the comfort she would give him in private.

 

“Trunks, why don't you drive this thing? Your mother needs her rest.” He sat beside her quietly in the little ship, holding her close as she rested her head against his shoulder.

 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered to her. Her thoughts told him he had nothing to be sorry for, as the ship took off. Everyone was silent, save for Chibi Trunks, who tore off his seatbelt effortlessly, to fly into his father's lap.

 

“Papa won fight?” he asked innocently.

 

He was speechless. Not simply because he did not feel the victor, but because it was probably the first full sentence he had heard the boy utter.

 

“Of course he did!” Arnaki called over to the toddler from her seat. Vegeta looked at her for the first time since she had witnessed his near murder of Kakarot, and she smiled at him brightly, her small way of telling him that she was still proud of him.

 

“Yay!” Trunks said clapping. Vegeta pulled him into his free arm, and held the boy against his heart. Yes, there were things far more important than the Saiyan throne. He would do his best not to forget that again.

 

 

 

 

 

“Mother? May I ask you a something?”

 

Bulma looked up from her computer screen to see the real concern in her daughter-in-law's eyes. Cordera had seemed quiet and distracted all morning, as they'd worked in the lab on the improved regeneration tank that they had been designing. The young woman was a technological genius, but had still not mastered the art of losing oneself in one's work. Bulma had become an expert at that of late.

 

“Sure, Cordera. I can tell something's bothering you.”

 

Cordera pulled over a chair to sit next to her. She looked down for a moment, as if not knowing how to begin. “It's Trunks…”

 

Bulma's son from the future was an adult, but she still had no qualms about treating him like her little boy. Her eyes narrowed with her frown. “Is he doing something to upset you? Because if he is, I'll have to straighten him out—”

 

“Oh, no,” Cordera broke in quickly. “Trunks is always wonderful with me. He's been patient and loving.” She flushed slightly, and Bulma knew she was telling the truth. Their relationship had begun with tragedy; the brutal assault on Cordera by Vegeta's enemies had left deep scars that Trunks' love and sensitivity had only begun to heal.

 

“Then what's wrong?” she asked the girl gently.

 

“I'm…worried about him. Ever since that day, after Bardock and the Queen Mother's wedding, he and the King have been training for hours on end.”

 

Bulma nodded. The incident with Goku had been a turning point for Vegeta. At first, she had thought that it would make him realize the idiocy of his paranoid fears that Goku posed a threat to his power. The only thing Goku posed a threat to was the palace kitchen; his abnormal appetite was beyond that of any Saiyan she'd met. Goku had come by two days later looking to spar, as if Vegeta had never tried to kill him. His easy-going nature only served to frustrate Vegeta more. Goku had found a cool reception at the palace, as Vegeta had told him that he preferred to spar with his son.

 

And spar they had. Day after day, for nearly a month, for hours on end. Vegeta had spent the bare minimum of his time on matters of State, and even less time with his family. Arnaki and Trunks had only seen him when they'd snuck by the Gravity chamber to watch Vegeta and Trunks fight. But Bulma had put an end to that when Arnaki had told her how intensely violent the two men had become. And only late at night would he come to her, bloodied and bruised, his rage spent with his energy, as he fell asleep holding her possessively in his arms. He was depressed, and their bond threatened to pull her into the depths of his despair each time she tried to understand what was going on with him. He would not speak of it, even in her mind. Only when he made love to her did wisps of his thought reach her. I will make you proud, woman. No one will take this Kingdom from our sons…

 

“Did you know that Trunks has been in the Regen tanks three times in the last week?” Cordera asked worriedly, drawing her back to the present. “The last time, the doctors told him to rest his arm, because it was broken—but the next morning he went straight back to the Gravity Chamber. He's in worse shape each time, and I keep worrying that next time it will go too far!”

 

Bulma was in shock. She'd had no idea that Trunks had been so seriously injured. Vegeta had broken some bones, but… “Look, Cordera, if you're concerned about Vegeta hurting Trunks—he never would. He's his son, and what they're doing is perfectly normal for Saiyans, even if it seems extreme to us.” Was she trying to convince Cordera or herself?

 

“Mother, you saw…what he did to Kakarot,” Cordera said carefully, not wanting to question the King who had treated her and her sister with more kindness than she could have hoped for.

 

Bulma shook her head. “No. That was different. They got carried away. He was angry—“

“Trunks is filled with rage,” Cordera replied, tears coming to her eyes. “He's training for a reason. I thought that when he helped his father destroy Tsiru-sei it would make it better. I thought I could make it better. But at night he has horrible dreams. About the man who raped me. About ripping him to pieces again. About King Kold and the horrible things he did to him and to you…”

 

Bulma felt a cold chill. She knew what it was like to suffer your mate's nightmares. But this was something more. The thing she had hoped would never come about, especially once Trunks had found love and peace with the young woman before her. “He wants to go back,” she concluded grimly, in barely a whisper. “To the other time. To kill King Kold.”

 

Cordera nodded, wiping her eyes. “Please don't let him, Mother,” she begged. “Please. I can't lose him.”

 

Bulma hugged her daughter in law to her, and promised, “You won't lose him.” And neither will I.

 

 

 

 

Vegeta watched with satisfaction as his son powered up, his lavender hair glowing with golden energy, his blue eyes burning teal. “Excellent, Trunks. Now, once more.”

 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!” With a roar he burst into Super Saiyan 2, as effortlessly now as his first transformation had been.

 

The King nodded at his heir. “Good. Now let's see Super Saiyan 3.”

 

Eagerly Trunks obeyed, the room shaking with the enormous energy he was putting forth. Mentally Vegeta measured his son's ki, so much more intense now than it had been even two weeks ago. Even before the golden mane had fallen to his waist and his brow had deepened to his new transformation, Vegeta knew that their efforts had paid off.

 

“You've done it, Trunks! You've surpassed Kakarot! Now no one will dare challenge your right to the throne!” he announced, his pride in the boy overwhelming.

 

Trunks grinned, a sharp contrast to the serious visage of just moments before.

 

“So, how does it feel to be the second most powerful being in the Universe?” Vegeta asked him smugly.

 

“It feels incredible, Dad. I never thought I could become this strong.”

 

“You never realized the power of the Saiyan Healing Factor,” his father replied. “And neither did I,” he added pensively. Not until the day Kakarot had floored him with his transformation, and Bardock had made him realize what a fool he'd been to beat Kakarot to a pulp day after day for six months. Vegeta himself had unwittingly aided Kakarot in becoming his greatest threat. He'd vowed that day never to make that same mistake. His family, his woman and his children, were his most precious possessions, and he would bequeath them all the wealth and power of the Saiyan Empire. But he would teach his sons to protect their birthright. To that end he had trained relentlessly with Trunks, working towards this moment that he could declare his son second in power only to himself.

 

“Now, Trunks, it's my turn.” Vegeta powered down until his hair was its normal black, but as Trunks began to do the same, he held out his hand in a gesture that told his son to wait. “No, you will fight me now as you are—Super Saiyan 3.”

 

Trunks' eyes opened wide. “But Dad—“ he began, unwilling to state the obvious—that at this moment his power level far surpassed Vegeta's. “I don't want to—“

 

He wouldn't dare suggest aloud that he might seriously hurt Vegeta—or worse. To do so would be the ultimate in disrespect, and the boy knew that. But Vegeta could still sense Trunks' hesitance, bordering on fear, and he tried to ignore it, as he said, “I need a challenge, Trunks. And more than that. I need you to bring me as close to death as possible. It's the only way I can become stronger.”

 

Trunks shook his head in confusion. “Dad, you're the most powerful man in the Universe. At SuperSaiyan 4 you can defeat anyone. You don't need to be stronger—“

 

“There is always a need to be stronger!” he snapped angrily, holding back his impulse to go Super Saiyan, though the energy crackled about him. “Kakarot will continue to train, and I must always keep several steps ahead of him!”

 

“Goku's not going to challenge you, Dad,” Trunks said with certainty. “He wouldn't even if he could—“

 

“If not Kakarot, then someone else,” Vegeta replied with just as much conviction. “I must never become complacent! Now, fight me! That's an order!”

 

Obediently Trunks complied, and they threw punches and kicks until Vegeta had broken a sweat. It was effortless for Trunks, and Vegeta could tell he was holding back. “I said fight me!” he roared furiously as he shot a Galick Gun at his firstborn. “You're not giving it all you've got!”

 

“I can't, Dad!” Trunks responded in growing frustration as he deflected the beam with one hand.

 

Vegeta shot another blast of ki directly at his son's face, but Trunks dodged it easily and surprised him suddenly from the back, grabbing his arms in a stronghold. Despite his own desire to be beaten to a pulp, he couldn't help but be proud of the boy's speed. This was exactly the challenge he needed. But Trunks would have to give it his all or this would be pointless. Breaking free of his son's grip he kneed him in the stomach, likewise impressed when the boy didn't even flinch. Yet suddenly Trunks' face was filled with a strange mixture of anger and grief that made him shudder as the boy said, “I won't do this, Father! I came across time to save you, to know you—and I won't take the chance of killing you!”

 

He would have been enraged at his son's suggestion that he could actually kill him—but something in the boy's pained expression and words touched his heart. Reminded of all his son had endured, he tried another tack. “All right, then,” he said calmly. “Then pretend it isn't me. Pretend it's that abomination Kold that you're facing.”

 

Trunks face darkened suddenly, and Vegeta knew that the boy was thinking of the years of abuse that he and his mother had endured at the hands of that vile creature. Vegeta didn't like reminding him of that. He had tried desperately to heal the wounds of his son's tragic youth, but he needed to teach the boy to draw upon that inner rage and transform it into his will to fight. It was something Vegeta himself had done all his life.

 

“Father—”Trunks warned through gritted teeth as the energy crackled about him.

 

“Go with it, Trunks. Use that hatred, that fury…Remember what he did to your mother…to you…”

 

The onslaught of blows came so quickly that Vegeta had little time to regret having to evoke such nightmarish memories for his son. Trunks' true power came unleashed with such force that Vegeta began to wonder if maybe he would have to transform to keep the boy from killing him. But the thought was lost in the blinding flash of energy that made everything go black.

 

 

Bulma and Cordera heard the explosion even as the palace shook violently as if the planet itself were about to tear apart. The Queen's hands went instinctively to her abdomen as the sudden flicker in Vegeta's energy made her heart fly into her throat. The room began to spin about her, but she blinked, willing herself the strength to run to the gravity room, Cordera's hand on her arm to steady her and her fear for her husband the only things preventing her from blacking out. She gasped as they reached the shattered remains of the chamber, smoke and dust from the explosion making it impossible to see. Suddenly, a figure emerged, and she choked back her tears as she saw her son carrying the bloodied and prone form of his father. She nearly fell over debris as she ran to them, crying out, “Vegeta!, no longer able to control the tears streaming down her face. Her hand was trembling as she brought her fingers to his neck, and her whole body sighed in relief as she felt a weak pulse. She looked up at Trunks, whose face was stricken with unspeakable sorrow.

 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “He—”

 

“Get him to the Regen Tank. Now!”