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.oocities.org/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
“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
“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!”