Vegeta's Promised
****Okay, I know that this story has been posted, then reposted, and now reposted again. I
wanted to apologize to everyone who took the time to review and then I go and take the story off
to revise it, and lose them all! Stupid me! Okay, for all that have read this story before, I have
changed a couple things. A couple months back, before I had even heard of FFNet, I sent the first
part of my story to a friend. Then, my computer crashed. I got a new computer, but lost
EVERYTHING. So, finally, just a week ago, she finally sent back the lost introduction.
Therefore, chapter's one, eight, and ten either have additions or omissions. I have changed a
major event in this story, and it will totally piss off some people, and make others extremely
happy. (Including me) But...If you want to blame anyone, blame Saiyanjim. He helped me with
the decision to change the story. The chapters are all longer, so now I only have 10 chapters,
instead of 15. Okay, um, that should be it. Sorry to all that will probably send me death threats
for the huge plot change, but the controversial event was bugging the hell out of me. So again,
sorry. To all new readers, I hope you enjoy the story. Please...review. (I promise that I won't
erase them.)****
THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN MODIFIED FROM IT'S ORIGINAL
Chapter One
Salty sweat poured down his face. His lip had stopped bleeding three minutes ago, but his
right leg was still quite numb. Nevertheless, his footing was firm, his stance strong, and his face
showed no signs of pain or fatigue. No amount of pain would ever force the boy to appear weak
in front of his father, his father was not a man who condoned weakness of mind or of body.
Ignoring the part of his brain that screamed for mercy on his wounded leg, the young boy swept a
hand through his straight blue hair, and stood straight and tall while gathering his ki. He stared
into his father's black eyes, searching for an opening, praying all the while that the man would not
sense the gathering of energy. With his lip turned into a half smile, the man tilted his head
slightly, regarding his son.
"Attack boy, or I'll do it for you." The boy winced at his father's words. He had taken
too much time for his counterattack. His father was ready for whatever the boy threw at him
now. The boy quickly searched the room, looking for a distraction that may catch his father off
guard. He than saw it. There was a crack in one of the support beams in the roof, and if the boy
could only hit that, it may be enough. Glancing to his father again, the boy took quick assessment
of the plan. His father was leaning against the wall, arms crossed with one leg propped against
the wall. By all accounts the man looked relaxed, but the boy would not be fooled. His father's
reflexes were second to only one other, and the gap between the two was closing quickly.
The boy bunched his muscles, and while trying with all his might to ignore the searing pain
in his right leg jumped straight into the air. Jumping higher than any normal boy should have been
able the boy grins as he watches his father grow smaller with the distance growing between them.
The boy looks up, and spies the cracked beam. He smiles, and focuses his energy into the palm of
his hand. A blue globe of crackling energy appears and begins to quickly grow. Glancing back to
the floor, the boy registers a blur of movement, and has no time to react as he realizes he forgot
one of the basic rules of combat. NEVER take your eyes off of the enemy. The boy knew the
price of such folly quite well. With one punch the air was knocked from his lungs with such force
that it felt like he was hit by a freight train. The boy knew what was coming next. Pulling his ki
back into him, concentrating on keeping his energy ready to be released, the boy braced himself
for the next hit. His father was above him now, and with a disapproving frown on his face, he
slammed his right fist into his son's prone back. The boy plummeted back to the ground, landing
on the concrete floor with a crack. The boy groans and turns onto his back, only to see his father
standing above him. His visioned blurred the boy sees the frown on his father's face, and he was
ashamed that he had not done better. Trying to get his eyes to focus he looks past his father, and
sees that they are right underneath the cracked support beam. The boy groans, rolling to his right
side to shield his right hand in which he again begins to gather his ki. His father watched him all
the while, but the boy understood that although it never showed, his father was more concerned
about his boy than any actual attack. The boy knew that this would be his only chance. With a
quick turn to his left side, the boy shot his right arm into the air, dispelling his gathered energy
from him. An added bonus, the boy realized, was that his father believed that the boy aiming at
him, not past him. Jumping back, the boy's father cleared a perfect path to the cracked beam for
the boy's energy attack. Shaking his head the boy's father stilled believed that the attack was for
him, and was not impressed by his son's poor aim.
"Boy, I..." Trailing off, the boy's father realizes his son's plan, but it was too late. The
ball of energy slammed into the beam, setting of a small explosion which snapped the beam in half.
The boy dove to the left as the beam and the part of the roof which it was supporting began to
fall. The boy's father watched his boy flee, quietly admiring his son's ingenuity. Turning back to
the falling beam the boy's father lifted his hand towards the tumbling wreckage and dispelled a
glaring bright white ball of pure energy. The beam and all of the debris were disintegrated in a
flash of blinding light. As the light dissipated ash was floating to the floor, blanketing everything
in the arena. The boy's father carelessly brushed the ash from his shoulder, all the while searching
the room for his son. He spotted a motionless form in the south corner of the room and quickly
flew over to it. The man picked up his unconscious son carefully, and smiled as he saw that the
boy's chest was rising and falling with unfaltering and unlabored breath. Wiping the ash from his
son's face, the man feels unmeasurable pride wash over him, he could not help but smile. The
boy's eyelashes flutter and the man coughs, replacing his unusual smile with a characteristic
frown.
"Father, I..." The boy begins as he wipes the ash from his eyes.
"Did alright today son, but after a stunt like that, you're lucky you didn't kill yourself!
You pull an idiotic move like that again, and I'LL do it for you!" The man growled as he placed
his son back on his feet. The boy wobbled at first, and looked truly hurt at his father's words.
Every time the man says something like that to his son, he always regretted it. The boy has a
strong body and a strong mind, but that's just it. He's still a boy. The man shakes his head, it's
so easy to forget sometimes. His son is his pride, one of the only things worth fighting for other
than respect and power. So when his son faltered in step, the man was more than a little happy to
lend his boy a hand. The man put a steadying hand on his son's shoulder as the two walked
towards the door.
"Trunks! Vegeta! Time for supper!" A woman's voice crackled over the intercom sweetly.
There was a small pause, and the intercom crackled to life once more, "I'M NOT GOING TO
TELL YOU AGAIN!" This time the voice screamed, making the boy wince and the man only
shake his head.
"Let's go boy, we don't want your mother mad at us. The woman will scream all
evening." Vegeta said. His boy Trunks nodded wholeheartedly.
* * * *
It was just a rumor at first. Frieza had been slain. Then Cooler. Shortly after that, more
news filtered in, Frieza was restored to life by his father, King Cold. It was said that the two then
traveled to Earth, a small unremarkable planet whose native inhabitants were just the same. Small
and unremarkable. In fact, the planet had been deemed fit for sale only three years ago. But
stories travel fast, even through the emptiness of space. A small group of Saiyans made the planet
their home, and protected the planet with their lives. The stories told of extremely powerful
beings, even for Saiyans, and the one who destroyed both Frieza and King Cold was only a boy!
This caused great ripples of unrest through the monarchy of Frieza. True, Frieza was dead, and
many of his followers disbanded from the monarchy as soon as they heard the news. However,
some of the more cautious followers decided to stay with the monarchy, for Frieza's mother,
Queen Frost, was still alive. More than a little disturbed by the news of the death of her two
powerful sons and even more powerful husband, Queen Frost called the remaining followers
together. The leaders of the planets still under the monarchy's rule filled the large conference
stadium in which the meeting was held. There was excited talk of retribution against the deserting
followers of the monarch, and against the lowly monkeys who slaughtered the royal family. The
crowd silenced immediately as the large iron doors swung open and twenty armed guards
marched into the stadium. Behind them came a regal and beautiful female. She stood eleven feet
tall, with delicate white horns protruding from the sides of her head, each adorned with platinum
rings which clinked together as she walked. Her skin was a glowing white, her eyes jet black and
her hair, also white, was long and streaked with light shades of blue.
As she walked past the rows upon rows of planetary leaders, she was met with the low
bows that were accustomed to her station and power. She was suited in armor, form fitting and
quite revealing. She wore her hair in a single braid, wrapped in black gossamer cloth. This was
the custom of the monarch for eons. When an important family member dies, the head females of
the family wrapped their hair in this tradition. Her gaze cold and stern, Queen Frost looked to her
side, where her honor guard stood at attention. Beside them was a force field, with a small figure
inside. The crackling energy of the field did not allow the figure to be discernable, but Queen
Frost already knew what was inside that force field, and she hated it. It took all of the regal
queen's willpower to fight back the urge to walk right through that field and rip it's contents
apart. It was already decided, however, that the being inside the force field was an integral part of
the Queen's plans. There would be time later for the destruction of the being that brought so
much hate to her heart.
The Queen walked up the steps to the monarchy's head chair. A chair in which her late
husband had sat in only eight years before. The Queen took a deep breath, looking from her
customary chair to the right of her late husbands and nodded her head slightly. If she was to ever
gain back the powers lost to her family, she would have to first gain back the fear, if not the
respect of her followers. She held up her delicate white hand and in it was a glowing ball of white
crackling energy. With a collective gasp the crowd was set back on it's heels as the regal Queen
disintegrated her former throne. With a slight smile, the Queen turned to the crowd and
pronounced in a clear and confident voice,
"I proclaim myself the new Head of state, Ruler of the Monarch, and Empress to all that
was once my husband's, and all that was once both your Lords Frieza's and Cooler's. Anyone
wishing to object speak now." The Queen spook with such finality and conviction that not one
word was muttered.
"Long live Queen Frost, the new Head of state, Ruler of the Monarch and Empress to all
that was owned by her family. ALL HAIL QUEEN FROST!" The honor guard's collective
voices rang out through the silent hall.
"ALL HAIL QUEEN FROST!" Was the crowds immediate response. The crowning of
the Queen took several minutes, and when the crowd again calmed Queen Frost called the hall to
attention with the raising of her hand.
"My devoted followers. I appreciate the fact that you all accept my rule, and I know that
we all wish for the destruction of those who threw our kingdom into such turmoil. The Saiyans.
Those hated primitives have gained enough power to destroy my beloved husband and my two
sons. I assure you, retribution will take place. As you all know, my honor guard is composed of
the pure Saeriyan race. The rival race of the Saiyans. As we've all heard the rumors of the battle
between the two rival races, you would agree with me that these Saeriyans, the best warriors of
their whole race would be able to destroy a small group of Saiyans on some pathetic mudball like
Earth!" The Queen paused to let the immense crowd digest what she was suggesting. She could
catch the sounds of both excited and concerned murmur. Again, she raised her hand for silence.
"My followers. I understand that these Saiyans are powerful. However, so are these
Saeriyans. There is also one other warrior that will join the ranks of my Saiyan Hunters." The
Queen exclaimed as she nodded towards her honor guard. Her guard quickly surrounded the field
as the guard's captain shut down the power grid. Surrounded by a host of armed Saeriyans, a
young woman sat cross legged. As she rose to her feet, her eyes never left the Queen. The young
woman stood at five and a half feet, weighing perhaps a whole 120 pounds. Her body was lean,
and the rags she wore barely covered her. Her hair was matted and tangled, but one could still
see the unusual coloring. It was long and white, and fringed with an inch of black. She stood tall
and strong, disregarding the painful cuts across her back. Nor did she flinch as she saw the
guards captain pull his cruel whip from his belt.
"YOU WILL KNEEL BEFORE THE QUEEN, HALF-BREED!" The captain scream
was accentuated by the crack of the whip. The girl doubled over in pain, and fought the blackness
which threatened to engulf her. Never did she give Frieza the pleasure of seeing her beg for
mercy, so neither will his accursed mother. "KNEEL!" Again the whip snapped. The girl could
not keep on her feet any longer. Against every single fiber of her being, the girl sank to her knees.
Tears welled in her eyes, but not tears of pain. Tears of defeat. However, she would not let them
fall. No way in hell. In her mind she repeated her vows of vengeance. Vows made many years
ago when she found that her father's home planet was destroyed by Frieza, that her own prince
was made his prisoner. She forced the tears back and glared into the evil Queen's icy eyes.
"Ah, you poor half-breed, it hurts me so to see you in such pain. However, you should
know your rightful place. You are a Hunter, and even though the primitive blood of the Saiyans
course through your veins, I am confident that your more refined Saeriyan blood will soon take
hold. You will join the Hunters on their journey to Earth, and you will aid them in their search.
You yourself will then sever the head of the monkey that killed my family and return it to me.
Only then will I grant your release." The Queen said with a smile. She knew that such a
suggestion would get the disgusting half-breed's attention. "You heard me correctly, my
Hunter," The Queen said with feigned respect, "You were Frieza's prisoner and plaything, but
my son and his rule is no longer. Avenge my family for me and you will gain power and freedom.
I declare this before the entire council. You have my word." The Queen said as she motioned to
the crowd.
"Keep your power, but I will take my freedom. I will Hunt these Saiyans for you, and I
will bring you the one's head who slaughtered your family so easily." The girl said quietly but
steadily. The Queen clenched her fists and fought back the urge to blast this rotten half-breed into
ash. She did not miss the subtle insult thrown to her by the filthy prisoner. Neither did her
captain. He lifted the cruel whip to strike the girl again. The regal Queen waved him off.
"I agree to your terms then. Bring me the head, and you will go free. Your brother and
sister Hunter's will accompany you to Earth, to make sure you finish the job." The Queen
nodded to the captain who again raised the force field, which blocked both the sound and sights
of the gigantic gathering. The girl's tears began to fall freely. She slammed her fist into the
marble floor and wasn't the least bit surprised as her fist sunk three feet into it. As she curled into
a ball on the floor her mind denied the Queen's words. The Hunter's may share some of the same
heritage as her but they would NEVER be her brothers and sisters. Her loyalties belonged to her
father's race, and to her Prince. She was too weak to cry anymore. She closed her eyes and tried
with all her might to deny the fact that she was about to betray all that she held dear.
* * * *
"Vegeta! How could you push our son so far! He's only a boy! You shouldn't have..."
Bulma yelled at her husband. Her face was flushed and her hands were shaking. She suffers
enough because of this man, but she will not allow the welfare of her son be threatened. Not that
Vegeta would ever allow their son to actually be harmed, Bulma conceded. Throwing her arms
up in surrender, she turned her back on her husband and knelt down to look straight into her son's
eyes.
"Trunks, listen to me carefully. When you're training with your father..." Bulma began
with a sidelong glance at Vegeta who huffed and crossed his arms, "you must stop the moment
you feel any kind of pain. I don't want you..." Bulma trailed off as she noticed that her son was
not looking at her, but past her, to Vegeta. She turned to regard her husband who returned her
gaze with an inquiring look.
"What?" Bulma asked in an irritated voice.
"Do you want our boy growing up to never be able to protect the family? Do you want
him to be weaker than Kakarrott's brats!?!" Vegeta's voice raised in intensity with the last
question as fire burned in his eyes.
"If it stops him from getting hurt, YES!" Bulma said as she stalked into the kitchen.
Vegeta watched her as she stormed away. With a slight smile he shook his head. He would never
understand that woman. It was her idea that Vegeta spent more time with the boy. What was he
supposed to do, take Trunks fishing? Vegeta scoffed at the idea. Realizing that he was being
watched Vegeta looked down to his son. Trunks had a smile that made Vegeta's heart warm, the
same smile that Bulma would flash him when no one was looking. She concealed her emotions
(as much as she could) for Vegeta, not for her sake, but for his. She knew his pride and
upbringing allowed for little displays of emotion, but she seemed to always get more from him
than he thought was possible. Especially in the privacy of the bedroom. He shook the thoughts
from his head.
"I'm getting soft." He told himself.
"Go wash up for dinner boy. No son of mine will disgrace his family by coming to the
table covered in filth." Vegeta said with as much conviction in his voice as he could muster. He
was getting soft. As he walked to his seat at the table he still felt eyes on him, and turning he sees
his son still standing there, grinning at him.
"GET YOUR ASS UPSTAIRS NOW!" Vegeta yelled at his son. Trunks jumped with a
start and ran up the stairs as fast as he could. Vegeta watched the boy blur with the speed and
shook his head. Sometimes he still wonders why he ever agreed to live with Bulma. He let his
mind wander back to Planet Vegeta, back to the clouded memories of his childhood.. Most he
could not remember, like his mother and siblings. They were always on the edge of his mind, and
memories of them were few and far between. So Vegeta focused on what he could remember.
His father was one of those memories. He was proud, as far as Vegeta could remember, and
would not let anyone tell him what to do when both the family and monarch was concerned. At
least that was true until Frieza showed up. That memory brought an immediate scowl to Vegeta's
already hard features. Leaning back in his chair Vegeta began to remember a certain argument his
father had with one of the councilmen. What was it about? Vegeta was sure it involved him, him
and... Rettan? Vegeta almost fell out of his chair as he remembered the name.
"Rettan." Vegeta let the name escape from his lips in the form of a whisper. He had not
thought of her since he was taken from his father by Frieza. Being under Frieza's great
'protective' wing Vegeta let go of everything he held dear. Everything that gave him any shred of
hope.
"Rettan." He said it again. Saying her name out loud almost made her come alive again.
She died when Frieza destroyed Planet Vegeta, of that he was sure. She would have died at his
father's side. A warrior's death. An honorable death. She would have been one of the first ones
to storm Frieza's ship. She would have been leading the band of warriors that followed the King
into battle. A battle to save Vegeta from Frieza's clutches. Being his betrothed she would have
died with his name on her lips, even if she would have been only thirteen at the time. He could
remember her clearly. The color of her eyes, her amazing hair, and the way she always stayed at
his side. He could remember her lovely tail, the way it moved as she walked. Even though they
were young, they knew they were for each other. Remembering Bulma suddenly, Vegeta almost
felt as if he were cheating on Rettan. However, Rettan was dead, her death avenged by Vegeta's
own son Trunks (from an alternate future), and Bulma was very much alive. Vegeta shook his
head to clear it of all the memories.
He could not live in the past. He could not. He ate his dinner in silence as usual, listening
to his son and wife prattle on about unimportant and stupid subjects. He learnt to accept this as
human culture however. The table seemed to be more of a place to gather and chat than to
actually eat. Blocking them out, his thoughts eventually drifted back to his childhood.
Remembering Rettan seemed to open the floodgates. He remembered exploring outside the castle
walls for the first time. Rettan was with him. She carried a spear with her, and as he thought on
it a little longer, she always had that spear. It was almost ceremonial... what the hell was that
spear for anyhow? They went into a forest, he remembered. There was a movement in the brush.
Rettan jumped in front of Vegeta... what was she doing? Vegeta thought sarcastically. She was
protecting him! That's right! He remembered! All Saiyan royalty at birth were automatically
given a bodyguard and a mate. It was tradition. Rettan was the next female Saiyan elite born
after Vegeta, therefore she was given the honor of being both his guard and his mate. She was
taken at birth from her father's home and raised and trained alongside Vegeta in the castle
barracks.
"Vegeta? Is the food not good enough for your royal tastebuds?" Bulma asked
sarcastically. Vegeta snapped out of his trance to realize that his food remained mostly uneaten
and that both his son and wife were staring at him.
"You wouldn't understand, woman." Vegeta muttered as he pushed his chair back from
the table. He stood up and began walking towards the front door.
"Wait! Vegeta, where are you going?" Bulma called after him.
"It is of none of your concern." Vegeta called over his shoulder.
"It is so!" Bulma yelled after him. She stood up and placed her hands on her hips.
Trunks ignored his parents and kept right on eating.
"NOT THIS TIME WOMAN! NOT THIS TIME AT ALL!" Vegeta yelled with more
than a little anger in his voice. Bulma was taken aback by the raw emotion he displayed. Of
course she and Vegeta always had their yelling matches, but he was always composed unless she
actually tried to get under his skin. Something was bothering him. But then again, something is
always bothering him, Bulma reasoned. Still, he never openly showed it like he did tonight. She
knew that she could never catch up to him, so she would just have to wait until later that night to
ask him about it.
Vegeta drew in his breath quickly to regain his composure. With a scowl he berated
himself for losing control. He was a master over his 'feelings', at least that is what the foolish
Earthlings called them. What about these memories bothered him so much? Vegeta wondered as
he rose into the air. The night air was crisp and clear and Vegeta could see his breath. Looking
down at his home he knew. Not only were the memories something he could never touch again,
Vegeta realized that those times with Rettan were the last time he was ever really content and
happy before he met Bulma. He knew he was not content and may never again be, but he was
happy. He had a mate that he could rely on, and a son that would carry on the royal Saiyan
bloodline. Did it bother him that they both got annoying at times? Slightly, but he realized that
he would not trade this life for any other. Deciding to dedicate this evening to his memories
Vegeta sat cross legged in the air remembering what he could of his life before Frieza, before he
had to sacrifice so much of his pride and principles in order to survive. Of Rettan, the thing he
could remember most of her was her eyes. They were the deepest green that he ever knew.
Suddenly he caught himself. Green? Why would her eyes be green? No Saiyans had green eyes.
Her hair was also unusual for a Saiyan. It was a shocking white, tipped in black Vegeta blinked in
surprise, berating himself for not automatically remembering. Rettan was half Saiyan, half
Saeriyan. That was what all the fights between the King and the high council was about. The
council didn't like the fact that the prince, the next in line for the throne, was going to marry a
half-breed. One that was the product of two warring factions. Vegeta's father believed that
Rettan was Vegeta's soul mate, and since it followed tradition, she was accepted into the
monarch. Vegeta realized that the fact that Rettan was a half-breed changed nothing. His
memories of her were the same. He remembered the day that Frieza took him from his father,
from Rettan. His father sat on the throne, stoned faced, with fire in his eyes. Rettan stood at the
door as Vegeta walked past. The look in her eyes spoke volumes. Vegeta could still see the
moisture welling up at the corners. Vegeta could do nothing but look away as he walked past. He
remembered that he did not want to get Rettan in trouble with Freiza. He could remember her
passion for life, she was even more hot headed than himself. Right after Vegeta walked Frieza.
Rettan stood tall as everyone else around her bowed low to the powerful fiend. Vegeta could
remember, she looked straight into Frieza's eyes! She gripped her spear tightly, so tight, Vegeta
remembered, that she drew blood from her hand.. Frieza looked from her back to Vegeta's father
and smiled slightly. He then turned back to Rettan and stared straight into her eyes, whispering,
"I'll be back."
He moved as if to strike her, but Vegeta remembered, she stood her ground. At the time
her power level equaled or may be even surpassed Vegeta's, which was considerably lower at that
age, but she didn't even flinch in the face of that immensely powerful being. Vegeta allowed
himself a genuine smile, in honor of his betrothed, his bodyguard, his... his friend. He shook his
head. Vegeta finally found an incident in which that word belonged. He never really called
anyone friend before. He had allies and underlings, of course. But friends? No, the closest thing
he now has to a friend is Bulma, and she is a wife. It was different. Vegeta felt moisture roll
down his cheek. At first he checked the sky for rain, but there was no clouds. He then realized
that he was actually shedding a tear, something he had not done since he had died on Namek*.
He accepted it for what it was. He was saying goodbye to his one and only friend, and where
ever she was, she knew that accepting these emotions may possibly be the greatest honor that he
could give her. Looking to the stars Vegeta let go of the memories, let go of his friend.
"Goodbye." He whispered as he set his jaw and turned back to his home to join his wife
in bed.
* * * *
"Get dressed mongrel. You need to at least look presentable when you rip the head off
the monkey that murdered our Lords." A gruff voice said as a bundle of armor, clothing and a
weapon clanged onto the floor by the sleeping girl's head. The girl jumped to her feet and spat in
the direction of the guard.
"Stupid cow! You're lucky that the Queen said that you are to not have any aesthetic
damage done to ya. So ya won't get a beatin' fer that. But..." The guard said with a nasty
toothless grin as he walked into the cell. Closing the door behind him he shouted over his
shoulder, "I'll be teachin' the half-breed a lesson Guardsmen Bredewal. Come open the door in
twenty minutes." Beginning to unlatch his belt the guard looked the girl up and down. "That
should give us more than enough time, eh mutt? Y'know.." The guard said as he continued his
steady advance on the girl, "I ain't never had a Saiyan and a Saeriyan at the same time. Actually,
I ain't never had neither, what with Saeriyans bein' so reclusive and Saiyans bein' nearly extinct,
on account of his High Lord Frieza, o' course." The brutish guard said with a sneer in his voice.
A fire burnt in the girl's heart, hotter than it had in a long time. Glancing to the bundle that lay on
the floor she saw the outline of a familiar weapon. The guard saw the glance and stepped
between the bundle and the girl.
"Now we can't have that mongrel. Now just be good and lay down. Heh, fight back if ya
want. All the more fun fer me." The guard resumed his steady stalking of the girl. She could fell
her energy building up inside her, threatening to explode. This fool didn't know what he was
doing. She would have loved to blow a hole right through the sick bastard with her most
powerful ki blast, but she could not. There was an electronic collar around her neck that reversed
the flow of her own energy. If she fired off a ki blast it would backfire and course through her
own body instead. There was a small chance that she could nail this guy with a ki blast and
survive, but he may just as easily survive the blast as well and she would be left defenseless. No,
she would have to find another way. The weapon on the floor was her best bet. She took a step
backwards, trying to lead the guard away from the bundle. He stopped, trying to figure out a way
to keep the girl from the weapon. The girl could sense his hesitation, and taking another step
back, she accidently 'slipped', falling to the floor. She saw the guard's face light up when he
thought he saw an opening. He quickly realized his error when the girl kicked her feet out and
hooked his legs out from underneath him. Falling to his back, he realized too late that one does
not mess with a Saiyan. The girl jumped into the air high enough to touch the cell's ten foot
ceiling, hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity, and landed with the heels of both feet
sidelong on the guard's sternum. The large and ugly man tried to scream in pain but the noise
only came out as a small splatter of blood. Her face like stone, the girl turned from the guard and
walked quietly over to the bundle sitting on the floor. Snapping the string holding the bundle
together, the contents spilled out onto the floor. There her own weapon laid, like new. Touching
the beautifully forged and decorated spear, memories flooded her mind. Mainly memories of her
Prince. Hearing a shuffling behind her she shook herself from her trance. Diving forward, she
grabbed her spear and rolled, coming back to her feet two, maybe three meters from the guard.
Again she jumped into the air, using the spear as leverage to propel herself upwards and
forwards. Striking the guard in the chest yet again with a flying side kick caused the huge and
ugly brute to fall to his back. He pleaded through gasps of air for mercy.
"P-p-please...I-I-I don't want to die. H-have m-m-mer*gasp*...." The guard was abruptly
cut off as his lungs deflated. The girl stood over him, with her spear embedded deep in his chest.
"Saiyans have no mercy. Enjoy your time in hell." The girl said as she accentuated her
curse by ripping the spear from his body. Wiping the blade on the lifeless form the girl stood
straight and proud. She was Saiyan, and nothing could make her forget that, not even her
gruesome task ahead.
* * * *
****Okay, I know that this story has been posted, then reposted, and now reposted again. I
wanted to apologize to everyone who took the time to review and then I go and take the story off
to revise it, and lose them all! Stupid me! Okay, for all that have read this story before, I have
changed a couple things. A couple months back, before I had even heard of FFNet, I sent the first
part of my story to a friend. Then, my computer crashed. I got a new computer, but lost
EVERYTHING. So, finally, just a week ago, she finally sent back the lost introduction.
Therefore, chapter's one, eight, and ten either have additions or omissions. I have changed a
major event in this story, and it will totally piss off some people, and make others extremely
happy. (Including me) But...If you want to blame anyone, blame Saiyanjim. He helped me with
the decision to change the story. The chapters are all longer, so now I only have 10 chapters,
instead of 15. Okay, um, that should be it. Sorry to all that will probably send me death threats
for the huge plot change, but the controversial event was bugging the hell out of me. So again,
sorry. To all new readers, I hope you enjoy the story. Please...review. (I promise that I won't
erase them.)****
THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN MODIFIED FROM IT'S ORIGINAL
Chapter One
Salty sweat poured down his face. His lip had stopped bleeding three minutes ago, but his
right leg was still quite numb. Nevertheless, his footing was firm, his stance strong, and his face
showed no signs of pain or fatigue. No amount of pain would ever force the boy to appear weak
in front of his father, his father was not a man who condoned weakness of mind or of body.
Ignoring the part of his brain that screamed for mercy on his wounded leg, the young boy swept a
hand through his straight blue hair, and stood straight and tall while gathering his ki. He stared
into his father's black eyes, searching for an opening, praying all the while that the man would not
sense the gathering of energy. With his lip turned into a half smile, the man tilted his head
slightly, regarding his son.
"Attack boy, or I'll do it for you." The boy winced at his father's words. He had taken
too much time for his counterattack. His father was ready for whatever the boy threw at him
now. The boy quickly searched the room, looking for a distraction that may catch his father off
guard. He than saw it. There was a crack in one of the support beams in the roof, and if the boy
could only hit that, it may be enough. Glancing to his father again, the boy took quick assessment
of the plan. His father was leaning against the wall, arms crossed with one leg propped against
the wall. By all accounts the man looked relaxed, but the boy would not be fooled. His father's
reflexes were second to only one other, and the gap between the two was closing quickly.
The boy bunched his muscles, and while trying with all his might to ignore the searing pain
in his right leg jumped straight into the air. Jumping higher than any normal boy should have been
able the boy grins as he watches his father grow smaller with the distance growing between them.
The boy looks up, and spies the cracked beam. He smiles, and focuses his energy into the palm of
his hand. A blue globe of crackling energy appears and begins to quickly grow. Glancing back to
the floor, the boy registers a blur of movement, and has no time to react as he realizes he forgot
one of the basic rules of combat. NEVER take your eyes off of the enemy. The boy knew the
price of such folly quite well. With one punch the air was knocked from his lungs with such force
that it felt like he was hit by a freight train. The boy knew what was coming next. Pulling his ki
back into him, concentrating on keeping his energy ready to be released, the boy braced himself
for the next hit. His father was above him now, and with a disapproving frown on his face, he
slammed his right fist into his son's prone back. The boy plummeted back to the ground, landing
on the concrete floor with a crack. The boy groans and turns onto his back, only to see his father
standing above him. His visioned blurred the boy sees the frown on his father's face, and he was
ashamed that he had not done better. Trying to get his eyes to focus he looks past his father, and
sees that they are right underneath the cracked support beam. The boy groans, rolling to his right
side to shield his right hand in which he again begins to gather his ki. His father watched him all
the while, but the boy understood that although it never showed, his father was more concerned
about his boy than any actual attack. The boy knew that this would be his only chance. With a
quick turn to his left side, the boy shot his right arm into the air, dispelling his gathered energy
from him. An added bonus, the boy realized, was that his father believed that the boy aiming at
him, not past him. Jumping back, the boy's father cleared a perfect path to the cracked beam for
the boy's energy attack. Shaking his head the boy's father stilled believed that the attack was for
him, and was not impressed by his son's poor aim.
"Boy, I..." Trailing off, the boy's father realizes his son's plan, but it was too late. The
ball of energy slammed into the beam, setting of a small explosion which snapped the beam in half.
The boy dove to the left as the beam and the part of the roof which it was supporting began to
fall. The boy's father watched his boy flee, quietly admiring his son's ingenuity. Turning back to
the falling beam the boy's father lifted his hand towards the tumbling wreckage and dispelled a
glaring bright white ball of pure energy. The beam and all of the debris were disintegrated in a
flash of blinding light. As the light dissipated ash was floating to the floor, blanketing everything
in the arena. The boy's father carelessly brushed the ash from his shoulder, all the while searching
the room for his son. He spotted a motionless form in the south corner of the room and quickly
flew over to it. The man picked up his unconscious son carefully, and smiled as he saw that the
boy's chest was rising and falling with unfaltering and unlabored breath. Wiping the ash from his
son's face, the man feels unmeasurable pride wash over him, he could not help but smile. The
boy's eyelashes flutter and the man coughs, replacing his unusual smile with a characteristic
frown.
"Father, I..." The boy begins as he wipes the ash from his eyes.
"Did alright today son, but after a stunt like that, you're lucky you didn't kill yourself!
You pull an idiotic move like that again, and I'LL do it for you!" The man growled as he placed
his son back on his feet. The boy wobbled at first, and looked truly hurt at his father's words.
Every time the man says something like that to his son, he always regretted it. The boy has a
strong body and a strong mind, but that's just it. He's still a boy. The man shakes his head, it's
so easy to forget sometimes. His son is his pride, one of the only things worth fighting for other
than respect and power. So when his son faltered in step, the man was more than a little happy to
lend his boy a hand. The man put a steadying hand on his son's shoulder as the two walked
towards the door.
"Trunks! Vegeta! Time for supper!" A woman's voice crackled over the intercom sweetly.
There was a small pause, and the intercom crackled to life once more, "I'M NOT GOING TO
TELL YOU AGAIN!" This time the voice screamed, making the boy wince and the man only
shake his head.
"Let's go boy, we don't want your mother mad at us. The woman will scream all
evening." Vegeta said. His boy Trunks nodded wholeheartedly.
* * * *
It was just a rumor at first. Frieza had been slain. Then Cooler. Shortly after that, more
news filtered in, Frieza was restored to life by his father, King Cold. It was said that the two then
traveled to Earth, a small unremarkable planet whose native inhabitants were just the same. Small
and unremarkable. In fact, the planet had been deemed fit for sale only three years ago. But
stories travel fast, even through the emptiness of space. A small group of Saiyans made the planet
their home, and protected the planet with their lives. The stories told of extremely powerful
beings, even for Saiyans, and the one who destroyed both Frieza and King Cold was only a boy!
This caused great ripples of unrest through the monarchy of Frieza. True, Frieza was dead, and
many of his followers disbanded from the monarchy as soon as they heard the news. However,
some of the more cautious followers decided to stay with the monarchy, for Frieza's mother,
Queen Frost, was still alive. More than a little disturbed by the news of the death of her two
powerful sons and even more powerful husband, Queen Frost called the remaining followers
together. The leaders of the planets still under the monarchy's rule filled the large conference
stadium in which the meeting was held. There was excited talk of retribution against the deserting
followers of the monarch, and against the lowly monkeys who slaughtered the royal family. The
crowd silenced immediately as the large iron doors swung open and twenty armed guards
marched into the stadium. Behind them came a regal and beautiful female. She stood eleven feet
tall, with delicate white horns protruding from the sides of her head, each adorned with platinum
rings which clinked together as she walked. Her skin was a glowing white, her eyes jet black and
her hair, also white, was long and streaked with light shades of blue.
As she walked past the rows upon rows of planetary leaders, she was met with the low
bows that were accustomed to her station and power. She was suited in armor, form fitting and
quite revealing. She wore her hair in a single braid, wrapped in black gossamer cloth. This was
the custom of the monarch for eons. When an important family member dies, the head females of
the family wrapped their hair in this tradition. Her gaze cold and stern, Queen Frost looked to her
side, where her honor guard stood at attention. Beside them was a force field, with a small figure
inside. The crackling energy of the field did not allow the figure to be discernable, but Queen
Frost already knew what was inside that force field, and she hated it. It took all of the regal
queen's willpower to fight back the urge to walk right through that field and rip it's contents
apart. It was already decided, however, that the being inside the force field was an integral part of
the Queen's plans. There would be time later for the destruction of the being that brought so
much hate to her heart.
The Queen walked up the steps to the monarchy's head chair. A chair in which her late
husband had sat in only eight years before. The Queen took a deep breath, looking from her
customary chair to the right of her late husbands and nodded her head slightly. If she was to ever
gain back the powers lost to her family, she would have to first gain back the fear, if not the
respect of her followers. She held up her delicate white hand and in it was a glowing ball of white
crackling energy. With a collective gasp the crowd was set back on it's heels as the regal Queen
disintegrated her former throne. With a slight smile, the Queen turned to the crowd and
pronounced in a clear and confident voice,
"I proclaim myself the new Head of state, Ruler of the Monarch, and Empress to all that
was once my husband's, and all that was once both your Lords Frieza's and Cooler's. Anyone
wishing to object speak now." The Queen spook with such finality and conviction that not one
word was muttered.
"Long live Queen Frost, the new Head of state, Ruler of the Monarch and Empress to all
that was owned by her family. ALL HAIL QUEEN FROST!" The honor guard's collective
voices rang out through the silent hall.
"ALL HAIL QUEEN FROST!" Was the crowds immediate response. The crowning of
the Queen took several minutes, and when the crowd again calmed Queen Frost called the hall to
attention with the raising of her hand.
"My devoted followers. I appreciate the fact that you all accept my rule, and I know that
we all wish for the destruction of those who threw our kingdom into such turmoil. The Saiyans.
Those hated primitives have gained enough power to destroy my beloved husband and my two
sons. I assure you, retribution will take place. As you all know, my honor guard is composed of
the pure Saeriyan race. The rival race of the Saiyans. As we've all heard the rumors of the battle
between the two rival races, you would agree with me that these Saeriyans, the best warriors of
their whole race would be able to destroy a small group of Saiyans on some pathetic mudball like
Earth!" The Queen paused to let the immense crowd digest what she was suggesting. She could
catch the sounds of both excited and concerned murmur. Again, she raised her hand for silence.
"My followers. I understand that these Saiyans are powerful. However, so are these
Saeriyans. There is also one other warrior that will join the ranks of my Saiyan Hunters." The
Queen exclaimed as she nodded towards her honor guard. Her guard quickly surrounded the field
as the guard's captain shut down the power grid. Surrounded by a host of armed Saeriyans, a
young woman sat cross legged. As she rose to her feet, her eyes never left the Queen. The young
woman stood at five and a half feet, weighing perhaps a whole 120 pounds. Her body was lean,
and the rags she wore barely covered her. Her hair was matted and tangled, but one could still
see the unusual coloring. It was long and white, and fringed with an inch of black. She stood tall
and strong, disregarding the painful cuts across her back. Nor did she flinch as she saw the
guards captain pull his cruel whip from his belt.
"YOU WILL KNEEL BEFORE THE QUEEN, HALF-BREED!" The captain scream
was accentuated by the crack of the whip. The girl doubled over in pain, and fought the blackness
which threatened to engulf her. Never did she give Frieza the pleasure of seeing her beg for
mercy, so neither will his accursed mother. "KNEEL!" Again the whip snapped. The girl could
not keep on her feet any longer. Against every single fiber of her being, the girl sank to her knees.
Tears welled in her eyes, but not tears of pain. Tears of defeat. However, she would not let them
fall. No way in hell. In her mind she repeated her vows of vengeance. Vows made many years
ago when she found that her father's home planet was destroyed by Frieza, that her own prince
was made his prisoner. She forced the tears back and glared into the evil Queen's icy eyes.
"Ah, you poor half-breed, it hurts me so to see you in such pain. However, you should
know your rightful place. You are a Hunter, and even though the primitive blood of the Saiyans
course through your veins, I am confident that your more refined Saeriyan blood will soon take
hold. You will join the Hunters on their journey to Earth, and you will aid them in their search.
You yourself will then sever the head of the monkey that killed my family and return it to me.
Only then will I grant your release." The Queen said with a smile. She knew that such a
suggestion would get the disgusting half-breed's attention. "You heard me correctly, my
Hunter," The Queen said with feigned respect, "You were Frieza's prisoner and plaything, but
my son and his rule is no longer. Avenge my family for me and you will gain power and freedom.
I declare this before the entire council. You have my word." The Queen said as she motioned to
the crowd.
"Keep your power, but I will take my freedom. I will Hunt these Saiyans for you, and I
will bring you the one's head who slaughtered your family so easily." The girl said quietly but
steadily. The Queen clenched her fists and fought back the urge to blast this rotten half-breed into
ash. She did not miss the subtle insult thrown to her by the filthy prisoner. Neither did her
captain. He lifted the cruel whip to strike the girl again. The regal Queen waved him off.
"I agree to your terms then. Bring me the head, and you will go free. Your brother and
sister Hunter's will accompany you to Earth, to make sure you finish the job." The Queen
nodded to the captain who again raised the force field, which blocked both the sound and sights
of the gigantic gathering. The girl's tears began to fall freely. She slammed her fist into the
marble floor and wasn't the least bit surprised as her fist sunk three feet into it. As she curled into
a ball on the floor her mind denied the Queen's words. The Hunter's may share some of the same
heritage as her but they would NEVER be her brothers and sisters. Her loyalties belonged to her
father's race, and to her Prince. She was too weak to cry anymore. She closed her eyes and tried
with all her might to deny the fact that she was about to betray all that she held dear.
* * * *
"Vegeta! How could you push our son so far! He's only a boy! You shouldn't have..."
Bulma yelled at her husband. Her face was flushed and her hands were shaking. She suffers
enough because of this man, but she will not allow the welfare of her son be threatened. Not that
Vegeta would ever allow their son to actually be harmed, Bulma conceded. Throwing her arms
up in surrender, she turned her back on her husband and knelt down to look straight into her son's
eyes.
"Trunks, listen to me carefully. When you're training with your father..." Bulma began
with a sidelong glance at Vegeta who huffed and crossed his arms, "you must stop the moment
you feel any kind of pain. I don't want you..." Bulma trailed off as she noticed that her son was
not looking at her, but past her, to Vegeta. She turned to regard her husband who returned her
gaze with an inquiring look.
"What?" Bulma asked in an irritated voice.
"Do you want our boy growing up to never be able to protect the family? Do you want
him to be weaker than Kakarrott's brats!?!" Vegeta's voice raised in intensity with the last
question as fire burned in his eyes.
"If it stops him from getting hurt, YES!" Bulma said as she stalked into the kitchen.
Vegeta watched her as she stormed away. With a slight smile he shook his head. He would never
understand that woman. It was her idea that Vegeta spent more time with the boy. What was he
supposed to do, take Trunks fishing? Vegeta scoffed at the idea. Realizing that he was being
watched Vegeta looked down to his son. Trunks had a smile that made Vegeta's heart warm, the
same smile that Bulma would flash him when no one was looking. She concealed her emotions
(as much as she could) for Vegeta, not for her sake, but for his. She knew his pride and
upbringing allowed for little displays of emotion, but she seemed to always get more from him
than he thought was possible. Especially in the privacy of the bedroom. He shook the thoughts
from his head.
"I'm getting soft." He told himself.
"Go wash up for dinner boy. No son of mine will disgrace his family by coming to the
table covered in filth." Vegeta said with as much conviction in his voice as he could muster. He
was getting soft. As he walked to his seat at the table he still felt eyes on him, and turning he sees
his son still standing there, grinning at him.
"GET YOUR ASS UPSTAIRS NOW!" Vegeta yelled at his son. Trunks jumped with a
start and ran up the stairs as fast as he could. Vegeta watched the boy blur with the speed and
shook his head. Sometimes he still wonders why he ever agreed to live with Bulma. He let his
mind wander back to Planet Vegeta, back to the clouded memories of his childhood.. Most he
could not remember, like his mother and siblings. They were always on the edge of his mind, and
memories of them were few and far between. So Vegeta focused on what he could remember.
His father was one of those memories. He was proud, as far as Vegeta could remember, and
would not let anyone tell him what to do when both the family and monarch was concerned. At
least that was true until Frieza showed up. That memory brought an immediate scowl to Vegeta's
already hard features. Leaning back in his chair Vegeta began to remember a certain argument his
father had with one of the councilmen. What was it about? Vegeta was sure it involved him, him
and... Rettan? Vegeta almost fell out of his chair as he remembered the name.
"Rettan." Vegeta let the name escape from his lips in the form of a whisper. He had not
thought of her since he was taken from his father by Frieza. Being under Frieza's great
'protective' wing Vegeta let go of everything he held dear. Everything that gave him any shred of
hope.
"Rettan." He said it again. Saying her name out loud almost made her come alive again.
She died when Frieza destroyed Planet Vegeta, of that he was sure. She would have died at his
father's side. A warrior's death. An honorable death. She would have been one of the first ones
to storm Frieza's ship. She would have been leading the band of warriors that followed the King
into battle. A battle to save Vegeta from Frieza's clutches. Being his betrothed she would have
died with his name on her lips, even if she would have been only thirteen at the time. He could
remember her clearly. The color of her eyes, her amazing hair, and the way she always stayed at
his side. He could remember her lovely tail, the way it moved as she walked. Even though they
were young, they knew they were for each other. Remembering Bulma suddenly, Vegeta almost
felt as if he were cheating on Rettan. However, Rettan was dead, her death avenged by Vegeta's
own son Trunks (from an alternate future), and Bulma was very much alive. Vegeta shook his
head to clear it of all the memories.
He could not live in the past. He could not. He ate his dinner in silence as usual, listening
to his son and wife prattle on about unimportant and stupid subjects. He learnt to accept this as
human culture however. The table seemed to be more of a place to gather and chat than to
actually eat. Blocking them out, his thoughts eventually drifted back to his childhood.
Remembering Rettan seemed to open the floodgates. He remembered exploring outside the castle
walls for the first time. Rettan was with him. She carried a spear with her, and as he thought on
it a little longer, she always had that spear. It was almost ceremonial... what the hell was that
spear for anyhow? They went into a forest, he remembered. There was a movement in the brush.
Rettan jumped in front of Vegeta... what was she doing? Vegeta thought sarcastically. She was
protecting him! That's right! He remembered! All Saiyan royalty at birth were automatically
given a bodyguard and a mate. It was tradition. Rettan was the next female Saiyan elite born
after Vegeta, therefore she was given the honor of being both his guard and his mate. She was
taken at birth from her father's home and raised and trained alongside Vegeta in the castle
barracks.
"Vegeta? Is the food not good enough for your royal tastebuds?" Bulma asked
sarcastically. Vegeta snapped out of his trance to realize that his food remained mostly uneaten
and that both his son and wife were staring at him.
"You wouldn't understand, woman." Vegeta muttered as he pushed his chair back from
the table. He stood up and began walking towards the front door.
"Wait! Vegeta, where are you going?" Bulma called after him.
"It is of none of your concern." Vegeta called over his shoulder.
"It is so!" Bulma yelled after him. She stood up and placed her hands on her hips.
Trunks ignored his parents and kept right on eating.
"NOT THIS TIME WOMAN! NOT THIS TIME AT ALL!" Vegeta yelled with more
than a little anger in his voice. Bulma was taken aback by the raw emotion he displayed. Of
course she and Vegeta always had their yelling matches, but he was always composed unless she
actually tried to get under his skin. Something was bothering him. But then again, something is
always bothering him, Bulma reasoned. Still, he never openly showed it like he did tonight. She
knew that she could never catch up to him, so she would just have to wait until later that night to
ask him about it.
Vegeta drew in his breath quickly to regain his composure. With a scowl he berated
himself for losing control. He was a master over his 'feelings', at least that is what the foolish
Earthlings called them. What about these memories bothered him so much? Vegeta wondered as
he rose into the air. The night air was crisp and clear and Vegeta could see his breath. Looking
down at his home he knew. Not only were the memories something he could never touch again,
Vegeta realized that those times with Rettan were the last time he was ever really content and
happy before he met Bulma. He knew he was not content and may never again be, but he was
happy. He had a mate that he could rely on, and a son that would carry on the royal Saiyan
bloodline. Did it bother him that they both got annoying at times? Slightly, but he realized that
he would not trade this life for any other. Deciding to dedicate this evening to his memories
Vegeta sat cross legged in the air remembering what he could of his life before Frieza, before he
had to sacrifice so much of his pride and principles in order to survive. Of Rettan, the thing he
could remember most of her was her eyes. They were the deepest green that he ever knew.
Suddenly he caught himself. Green? Why would her eyes be green? No Saiyans had green eyes.
Her hair was also unusual for a Saiyan. It was a shocking white, tipped in black Vegeta blinked in
surprise, berating himself for not automatically remembering. Rettan was half Saiyan, half
Saeriyan. That was what all the fights between the King and the high council was about. The
council didn't like the fact that the prince, the next in line for the throne, was going to marry a
half-breed. One that was the product of two warring factions. Vegeta's father believed that
Rettan was Vegeta's soul mate, and since it followed tradition, she was accepted into the
monarch. Vegeta realized that the fact that Rettan was a half-breed changed nothing. His
memories of her were the same. He remembered the day that Frieza took him from his father,
from Rettan. His father sat on the throne, stoned faced, with fire in his eyes. Rettan stood at the
door as Vegeta walked past. The look in her eyes spoke volumes. Vegeta could still see the
moisture welling up at the corners. Vegeta could do nothing but look away as he walked past. He
remembered that he did not want to get Rettan in trouble with Freiza. He could remember her
passion for life, she was even more hot headed than himself. Right after Vegeta walked Frieza.
Rettan stood tall as everyone else around her bowed low to the powerful fiend. Vegeta could
remember, she looked straight into Frieza's eyes! She gripped her spear tightly, so tight, Vegeta
remembered, that she drew blood from her hand.. Frieza looked from her back to Vegeta's father
and smiled slightly. He then turned back to Rettan and stared straight into her eyes, whispering,
"I'll be back."
He moved as if to strike her, but Vegeta remembered, she stood her ground. At the time
her power level equaled or may be even surpassed Vegeta's, which was considerably lower at that
age, but she didn't even flinch in the face of that immensely powerful being. Vegeta allowed
himself a genuine smile, in honor of his betrothed, his bodyguard, his... his friend. He shook his
head. Vegeta finally found an incident in which that word belonged. He never really called
anyone friend before. He had allies and underlings, of course. But friends? No, the closest thing
he now has to a friend is Bulma, and she is a wife. It was different. Vegeta felt moisture roll
down his cheek. At first he checked the sky for rain, but there was no clouds. He then realized
that he was actually shedding a tear, something he had not done since he had died on Namek*.
He accepted it for what it was. He was saying goodbye to his one and only friend, and where
ever she was, she knew that accepting these emotions may possibly be the greatest honor that he
could give her. Looking to the stars Vegeta let go of the memories, let go of his friend.
"Goodbye." He whispered as he set his jaw and turned back to his home to join his wife
in bed.
* * * *
"Get dressed mongrel. You need to at least look presentable when you rip the head off
the monkey that murdered our Lords." A gruff voice said as a bundle of armor, clothing and a
weapon clanged onto the floor by the sleeping girl's head. The girl jumped to her feet and spat in
the direction of the guard.
"Stupid cow! You're lucky that the Queen said that you are to not have any aesthetic
damage done to ya. So ya won't get a beatin' fer that. But..." The guard said with a nasty
toothless grin as he walked into the cell. Closing the door behind him he shouted over his
shoulder, "I'll be teachin' the half-breed a lesson Guardsmen Bredewal. Come open the door in
twenty minutes." Beginning to unlatch his belt the guard looked the girl up and down. "That
should give us more than enough time, eh mutt? Y'know.." The guard said as he continued his
steady advance on the girl, "I ain't never had a Saiyan and a Saeriyan at the same time. Actually,
I ain't never had neither, what with Saeriyans bein' so reclusive and Saiyans bein' nearly extinct,
on account of his High Lord Frieza, o' course." The brutish guard said with a sneer in his voice.
A fire burnt in the girl's heart, hotter than it had in a long time. Glancing to the bundle that lay on
the floor she saw the outline of a familiar weapon. The guard saw the glance and stepped
between the bundle and the girl.
"Now we can't have that mongrel. Now just be good and lay down. Heh, fight back if ya
want. All the more fun fer me." The guard resumed his steady stalking of the girl. She could fell
her energy building up inside her, threatening to explode. This fool didn't know what he was
doing. She would have loved to blow a hole right through the sick bastard with her most
powerful ki blast, but she could not. There was an electronic collar around her neck that reversed
the flow of her own energy. If she fired off a ki blast it would backfire and course through her
own body instead. There was a small chance that she could nail this guy with a ki blast and
survive, but he may just as easily survive the blast as well and she would be left defenseless. No,
she would have to find another way. The weapon on the floor was her best bet. She took a step
backwards, trying to lead the guard away from the bundle. He stopped, trying to figure out a way
to keep the girl from the weapon. The girl could sense his hesitation, and taking another step
back, she accidently 'slipped', falling to the floor. She saw the guard's face light up when he
thought he saw an opening. He quickly realized his error when the girl kicked her feet out and
hooked his legs out from underneath him. Falling to his back, he realized too late that one does
not mess with a Saiyan. The girl jumped into the air high enough to touch the cell's ten foot
ceiling, hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity, and landed with the heels of both feet
sidelong on the guard's sternum. The large and ugly man tried to scream in pain but the noise
only came out as a small splatter of blood. Her face like stone, the girl turned from the guard and
walked quietly over to the bundle sitting on the floor. Snapping the string holding the bundle
together, the contents spilled out onto the floor. There her own weapon laid, like new. Touching
the beautifully forged and decorated spear, memories flooded her mind. Mainly memories of her
Prince. Hearing a shuffling behind her she shook herself from her trance. Diving forward, she
grabbed her spear and rolled, coming back to her feet two, maybe three meters from the guard.
Again she jumped into the air, using the spear as leverage to propel herself upwards and
forwards. Striking the guard in the chest yet again with a flying side kick caused the huge and
ugly brute to fall to his back. He pleaded through gasps of air for mercy.
"P-p-please...I-I-I don't want to die. H-have m-m-mer*gasp*...." The guard was abruptly
cut off as his lungs deflated. The girl stood over him, with her spear embedded deep in his chest.
"Saiyans have no mercy. Enjoy your time in hell." The girl said as she accentuated her
curse by ripping the spear from his body. Wiping the blade on the lifeless form the girl stood
straight and proud. She was Saiyan, and nothing could make her forget that, not even her
gruesome task ahead.
* * * *