He was the reflected image of his father.
That's how she knew he would be great.
But he'll know his heart, too, she mused; she could feel it in the way he suckled so gently, passively in her infamously bone-thin arms. He would be great, as the attendants had exclaimed countless times since his birth; but not in what was expected and prized of their race; not out of the wreckage of destruction, fear, or even pride; far too many were conquered by blinding pride.
Her eldest, she winced, mournfully. Her child of war.
No, this one's power will come with the perpetuation of life. He could even bring balance to their wretched system, someday.
The babys' bangs feathered her breast, burying his head into her heart, and she felt again the low swelling not unlike how she'd come to hold his father so dear.
It was not enough that, belonging to a warrior species, she could so easily feel.
It was not enough that her life had once been a stringed necklace of several, failed missions, huddled inside cascading debris, eyes shut to every full moon;
He would save her. Wordlessly, yes.
Never a grunt, nor scoff, nor culminated reprimand that she was unfit for her kind, embarassing even.
That's how she knew he was great; how she knew she would love him.
That was why, almost immediately after the birth of their first son, he'd watched dispairingly as the boy was carted away to his first mission; having felt a strange sort of anticipation in creating a family. Together; regardless of the talk they provoked from the population.
That was additionally why he would approach Kakarot wihout joy; why she should have to shelter him, parade him in front of his gruff father before he struck the notion of being blessed.
She shifted in her seat, breathing deep the scent of Saiyan children delivered and gone; she wrapped her senses around the form in her arms, the hum of the machinery, and the rehabilitation tank in the neighboring room, carrying her mate.
Near death he'd returned from Kanassa; the current diagnosis, a concussion. Trouble, curiously, with his brain waves.
Something finally managed to pentrate that thick skull, lover. She preened.
Yes. all would be well. Even on a corrupted planet like Vegeta.
That was when her sleeping child began to cry.