The sands of Vegeta were scorching in their intensity, the stone ground seemed to melt beneath Bardock's boots. The two suns, Tarble and Sai, wept heat over the barren landscape, making him feel as if he were swimming in a bottomless ocean. Or maybe he was just drowning in his own sweat beneath his armor. Bardock wiped his brow, his meager pay for the day jingling in the small leather sack he held.

He would have flown, but his Saiyan pride kept him from doing so. In between missions he worked as a blacksmith outside the palace making armor; his old job from when he was a boy. There weren't as many missions to take anymore- for anyone -which meant more third class Saiyans looking for work, which also meant fewer hours and larger pay cuts. He didn't need Gine to know that his average work day at the forge had been cut in half. She would only worry.

So he took his time getting to the dwelling they shared, on foot. Just over the hill, he could see the top of the spire through a shimmering haze of heat. Kami, the suns were furious today.

As he neared the dwelling he did not detect the sharp scent of krylat meat roasting over a fire and he frowned, his stomach growled loudly in protest. This was becoming a dreadfully common occurrence.

He pushed aside the tattered sheet covering the front archway, his eyes adjusting to the cool darkness. No one was in the dwelling, but he knew at least Gine should have been there. Her shift at the meat distribution center should have ended by then, but perhaps she had managed to pick up another one...

That's when he picked up the lull of her voice, drifting on a gust of smoldering wind.

He went out into the heat once more, circling around the dwelling and finding the back of a woman standing with her legs spread and arms crossed. A young boy trained under her watch.

He came up behind Gine, her charcoal hair rippled like a field of burnt grass around her shoulders as another gust of wind howled past their ears. Her brown furred tail unwrapped from around her waist to wave mischievously by her bare ankles.

"You're back early."

Even walking hadn't killed enough time. She was getting more suspicious by the day.

Bardock stopped beside her. "I finished early."

"Hm. No surprise there," she teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. She didn't take her eyes off of the child practicing the techniques she had shown him earlier. Gine had never been much of a fighter; she just didn't have the drive. Bardock had always said that she was too soft to throw a hard punch. But she had excellent form, something she had passed down to her child.

Bardock shifted his gaze from his mate to his son. The boy's long wild hair danced around his ankles as he threw punches and kicks at an invisible enemy.

"Raditz," he called, and the child's full attention was on his father. "Keep your center low. You're all over the place."

Raditz nodded, sweat drenching his heaving chest, and refined his stance.

"And keep that tail tight!"

Bardock watched his son, his expression guarded. In truth, he was impressed with the child's development. Raditz had all the skill and technique of any second class, maybe even first class with time and the right training. The only thing he lacked was a substantial power level. Raditz, like most lower classes, had been born weak. He had just barely passed the criteria for being sent off planet to prove he was worth being kept a part of the Saiyan population. But that did not excuse him from having to prove his worth, and the first person he had to impress was his father.

Bardock began his son's training right away, as early as the Saiyan child could walk. His son was going to make something of himself. No way was he going to remain "just a third class dog" for his entire life.

But for all the training, all the days drilling battle and perfection into the boy's head, Raditz was cursed with an average third class power level.

Bardock's fists tightened at his sides.

"Give him time. He's just a boy." Gine murmured to him. Her tail wrapped around his calf, the fur soft on his battle hardened skin. "You remember how low your power level was at his age?"

It was true. Bardock had been just like any other Saiyan in his class. Weak, without any hope of reaching beyond what was considered normal for a third class. Or so he'd been told.

He refused to be nothing more than target practice and cannon fodder to the upper classes. He was determined to raise above the stigma. Damned if he was going to live his life under someone's disapproval.

So he'd worked himself to the bone and trained until he felt death nearly seize in his chest. He'd gotten stronger, far stronger than what the elites thought he should be. Needless to say, they didn't like Bardock very much. But, then again, Bardock didn't care very much.

Still, watching Raditz perfect what had been taught to him, Bardock feared he had inherited more from his mother than just her form; he didn't think the boy truly had it in him.

Gine snatched the small sack out of his hand. She peered inside and shifted through the coins with a long finger. Her eyes met his and a deep frown lined her angled features. He saw the question in her dark eyes, the rising concern. He stared back at her, giving absolutely nothing away.

She turned on her heel, tossing the sack back to him. "I'm going hunting. Your son eats just about as much as you do these days." She then took off, leaving a cloud of red dust where her feet stood bare on the stone.

Hunting? Gine only did that when she needed to clear her head. Either that or the portions of meat she brought home from her work were being reduced even more. Bardock had a sinking feeling that it was a combination of the two, meaning a headache for him.

He sighed as she streaked across the sky, a slender blue comet against the roiling purple sky. Eventually, the problem would be brought up, and she would be worried, and he would angry, then she would also be angry. They'd probably end up pummeling each other into the dirt for a while, then pummel each other in the bedroom. He allowed a small smirk at that. Gine might not have been much of a fighter, but she still had that fiery Saiyan side of her that could be set ablaze with the right spark.

Such was the way Saiyan arguments went- at least between mates.

Bardock was still trying to find the right spark to ignite his son's potential. It had to be there; all warriors had it.

Raditz continued to train and Bardock continued to watch, wordlessly. The child looked about ready to collapse from the late day heat, exhaustion making his movements sloppy, but he continued this brutal regime under his father's watchful eye.

Bardock heard his son's labored breathing, saw the sluggish execution of his punches, the stumbling of his feet. Sweat blinded him, exhaustion crippled him, yet still the boy continued to train.

He wanted to see his son succeed. He wanted Raditz to become something more than what Bardock had always been told a third class deserved all his childhood. From the time he could talk the boy would go on and on endlessly about how he would one day become a strong warrior and conquer planets, just like his father. He listened in awe to the stories Bardock told him about his many adventures and fantastic battles late into the night. He learned to read early, just so he could fill his head with the history of Saiyan warriors passed, something not many of their race even bothered with.

Raditz' dream was to become a warrior who demonstrated honor and pride as fiercely as he wielded strength and power. Bardock would do whatever it took to help Raditz become that warrior.

When Raditz threw a punch and was unable to control the momentum he fell hard to his knee, the rocky ground cutting into his flesh. He tried to pick himself up but stumbled, catching the ground for support. Raditz looked over to his father, who stood with his arms crossed and his eyes hard. The look he received said 'you'd better get yourself up, boy, before I drag you up myself'.

A shaky breath pushed past chapped lips. Raditz dragged himself to his feet and stood unsteadily for a moment before falling back to his knees. His tired limbs were screaming and his chest felt like it was on fire. But nothing compared to the sting of disappointment in Bardock's gaze.

The sense of failure weakened him completely, and his hands hit the ground in defeat.

Silently, Bardock continued to watch, knowing that what you did after failure was what mattered most.

Raditz sucked air in through his teeth. He told himself that the stinging in his eyes was from sweat. He felt sick; the last meal he'd eaten had long been digested since the previous night. He'd been training so hard, working nonstop to perfect what his parents taught him, and yet he remained weak- worthless- a disgrace. A third class Saiyan.

Too exhausted and angry at himself to notice that his father hadn't walked away from him in disgust yet, Raditz pounded the ground with a weak fist. His small body was shaking, bile rising in his throat. He couldn't tell if it was from training so hard on an empty stomach or disgust at himself. He considered the idea of just crawling up to his bed.

He growled to himself. No. He would not crawl on all fours like a dog. He would get up on his feet. He would walk to his bed. There was no other option, he was a Saiyan, damnit! He would do it.

Raditz gripped the ground with trembling hands, the hard rock scorching his fingertips. He pushed, drawing in a breath that felt like fire in his lungs. He forced his shaking legs to straighten, feet planted wide, arms out to catch himself. He wobbled for a few seconds, the world spinning and blacking out at the edges. He was standing, upright, on his own feet. He felt like dying, but he was standing.

He turned his head to the side, only half realizing that his father was still there.

Bardock's expression was hard as he regarded Raditz, but his eyes were bright. The corners of his mouth were tight, as if we were trying not to smile. The kid had better get inside before a gust of wind knocked him over. He jerked his chin in the direction of the dwelling and Raditz followed automatically.

The boy picked up one foot, then the other, and repeated the process as the sound of his father's retreating footsteps guided him towards rest. The pace was slow going, and by the time he shadowed the doorway Bardock was already reclining with his feet up at the table. Raditz went to collapse into a seat and pass out until the next age when his father grunted disapproval.

"Nuh uh, boy." He nodded towards the stairwell. "To your bed. I won't have you drooling all over my table."

Raditz blurrily eyed the shadow of a narrow stairwell that spiraled up to the rest of the dwelling. There was one room per level, and Raditz' bed just happened to be on the fourth landing. He sighed in despair, but went forth without protest.

Bardock watched the dark mass of hair with legs stumble off, amusement stretching the scar on his cheek. He listened to his son's heavy steps make it about halfway up the first landing before hearing a loud thud, then silence.

Bardock chuckled bleakly and rested his head in his hand.

Alone in the dark windowless dwelling he tried to relax and cool off from the day. He began to doze as the twin suns made their descent from the purple sky. Bardock closed his eyes. The afternoon was quiet, the temperature dropping, the glow of the town bled in softly from the arched doorway.

Bardock was on his feet and alert at the sound of someone landing outside the dwelling.

"Yo, Bardock!"

The Saiyan recognized the voice and went to greet his visitor at the door. He had to tilt his head back to fully see the long face with the smug smile blocking out the light coming in from the door.

"Toma, what brings your oversized ass to my territory?"

The tall warrior's chuckle rumbled warmly in the small room. "Maybe I just missed your undersized ass?"

"Impossible," Bardock grinned, "I'm a 'miserable cocky piece of garlicht shit', remember?"

Toma put his hands passively in the air. "Selypa's words, not mine."

Bardock shrugged and returned to his seat. "Yeah, well, she did always have nice things to say about me."

"Can't imagine why. The only thing prettier than your mug is Pumbukin's arse."

The two Saiyan's shared a good humored laugh, the time lost between them settling comfortably. The mention of their old team brought back fond memories and strong comradery. It was as if they had never been apart.

But then Toma's face grew grim as he pulled up a chair. "But in all seriousness, Bardock, there's something I came to speak with you about."

Bardock leaned forward in his seat, his interest piqued at the dark foreboding in Toma's voice. It wasn't often his most trusted comrade stopped grinning.

"It's something I heard while on guard duty."

He frowned. Toma worked as a guard on the palace's grounds and wasn't much for gossiping, especially if it had anything to do with the royal family. If he took a word passing through the royal guard this seriously and felt the need to confide in Bardock then it was definitely big, and definitely not good.

"Vegeta's handed the entire Saiyan army over to Frieza."

"What?"

"Apparently some of his delegates are coming down to work out the details."

Disbelief and outrage burned throughout Bardock's entire body. Toma seemed equally murderous at the concept. "How could he? The fool! Does he realize what he's done?" Bardock shot out of his seat to pace across the room.

"Vegeta is no fool," Toma seethed, his large hand rubbing the back of his neck furiously. "But this decision he's made is just dumb-fuck stupid."

Bardock rested his arm against the wall, not trusting himself to speak lest he say something treacherous.

Toma gestured wildly with his hands, his voice heavy with accusation. "What will this mean for us? The entire Saiyan army. They're saying they're going to establish a base here. They're making us a part of the Cold Empire!"

"Frieza must have King Vegeta by the throat. Why else would he fuck his people like this?" Bardock made eye contact with his comrade, the cold reality of the situation shifting their rage.

Toma shook his head, jaw tight. "I thought we were going to resist Frieza. Fight back. Not join him."

Bardock's eyes stared out the arched door at the town glowing warm with life. The palace stood as a sharp silhouette against the darkening purple sky, the twin suns having already set behind it. "Obviously King Vegeta doesn't think that's an option. He must have some kind of plan."

"I don't know..."

Tiny pinpricks of light appeared through the palace windows, giving the illusion that the kingdom was on fire. He wondered if his King was pacing like a madman or if he was sitting with his head in his hands.

"I trust Vegeta," Toma went on to say, "But I don't trust Frieza. That slimy lizard is all wrong."

Bardock slowly stepped away from the wall. "There's nothing we can do." He took a seat back at the table, facing Toma's sour features. There really was nothing they could do but fester in this new wound; it was up to their King to clean it.

Toma's face lost it's angry edge, and the tall warrior's tail tapped his leg thoughtfully. "They're still holding the festival for the new prince next moon set."

"So he's just going to act like nothing's happening."

"That seems to be his plan."

"Then we must do the same." Bardock slipped off his red wrist wraps, letting them plop on the table with more deliberation than what should be considered casual. "For the time being."

He felt Toma eye him with the scrutiny of a long time friend. "It's not like you to sit on your tail and wait."

A bitter huff escaped him and his head tilted back to glare at the ceiling. "It's not like our people to allow themselves to be chained. All sorts of strange things are happening."

"Speaking of strange…"

Both warriors' heads turned as someone landed heavily just outside. Gine snapped the cloth aside as she appeared in the doorway, dragging with her a fresh kill. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of the ponytailed Saiyan sitting at her table.

"Thought I smelled a rat."

"Gine, always a pleasure," Toma snickered as the Saiyan woman dragged her prize over to the butcher's counter. "Nice kill. Were all the bigger, healthier choices picked over?"

"Who? The beast? Or this krylat I just caught?"

Toma laughed boisterously in Bardock's face. Gine easily hefted the large zebra-like creature on the stained surface, a teasing smile on her face.

"Well aren't you two just a regular couple of assholes," Bardock shot back, the smirk hidden in his eyes.

Gine turned her head to address the men, her wild hair swinging across her shoulders. "Toma, are you staying?" She asked with a welcoming smile while producing a butcher knife from Kami knows where.

Toma's stomach growled like a rabid beast at the offer, but his face fell with regret. "Nah, got guard duty tonight."

The warrior stood up from his chair, smacking Bardock upside the head as he went. Bardock retaliated by lobbing a mug that bounced harmlessly off of Toma's head.

"Get lost."

Toma straightened his ice blue battle armor, smirking at the familiar treatment from his teammate. "Thanks for your hospitality, Bardock, but I should get going."

"No, thank you for the intrusion on my territory. Always a treat."

Toma cackled at the heavy sarcasm. "Anytime!" He placed a quick smacking kiss on Gine's cheek to which she grimaced in feigned disgust as he ducked out of the dwelling. "I'll see you in the ring, Bardock!" And then he was gone, leaving a cloud of red dust and an echo of his laughter.

Gine chuckled as she wiped the saliva off of her reddened cheek. "I thought he was dead."

"No, unfortunately." Bardock relaxed back into his seat but the uneasiness remained embedded deep in his muscles.

"Why was he here? He didn't stay very long."

He wondered if he should tell Gine, but decided that he was too tired to go through the trouble. Probably would be better for him in the long run if he came to her with it now instead of her finding out about it later and realizing he knew and hadn't told her. But Bardock was never one for doing things he didn't particularly want to do.

"Just passing by before work, I guess."

Gine said nothing as she cut into her kill. Bardock closed his eyes and tried to relax. No use remaining all riled up over something he couldn't control.

He cracked an eye open when he heard Gine hum in confusion, the sound sweet and soft, like her. She was searching around the room for something, the tip of her tail twitching in thought. He didn't offer any assistance.

She mumbled to herself. "Must be upstairs…"

Bardock folded his hands behind his head while his mate disappeared into the stairwell. He hoped something good came out of this whole deal with Frieza. Maybe, with all of them working under the Cold Empire, there'd be more missions to take up. Then the money wouldn't be an issue, and he wouldn't have to confront Gine. Assuming that they'd get paid, of course. Otherwise, they'd be no more than sla-

His eyebrow twitched as he heard a thump followed by a vicious curse come from the stairwell. A few seconds later Gine's head appeared around the corner to glare murder at him.

'Oh yeah… Raditz…'

He shrugged in her direction and went back to lounging at the table.

Gine growled deep in her throat. "Worthless piece of…"

Was it mentioned that her spark was usually him being… well, him?

Bardock heard her pick up something lightly from the floor and continue up the steps, all the while cursing his name.


As a Saiyan, Onyonna had always been told that her hands were far too delicate. She didn't think so. Sure, her fingers were long and slender, the skin tan and smooth. She lacked the callouses that marked a 'true warrior', and not once had she ever broken a nail. But she never thought they were too delicate when she withdrew her arm from deep within an enemy's belly and gripped in her hand his still beating heart. She didn't think they were too pure with blood dripping from her knuckles and flesh beneath her nails.

No, the only thing delicate about her hands was when she held her newborn baby. When she ran her fingers through the his hair. When she stroked a thumb down his cheek.

She didn't think anything could make her chest feel so warm. Not the body of her enemy sprawled at her feet, not an entire kingdom under her gaze. Simply the soft cuff of his tail around her wrist and the happy growl when she tickled his full tummy.

Onyonna had so much pride for her son, so much that she thought she might burst. She wanted to be there for every moment his strength improved, every victory and defeat, every triumphant smile and angry frown.

She wondered at what kind of a warrior he would grow to be. Strong. Driven. Honorable. Even now as she watched him in his chamber, throwing his tiny fists and feet in a form of baby kata, she knew he would become great one day.

The Prince's bedchambers were dark, the heavy drapes were drawn against the twin suns. The only light in the room came from the soft ivory shimmer of a glow crystal suspended in the domed glass of his cradle.

Prince Vegeta curiously explored his hair with his fingers, trying to pull it down and stick it into his mouth. He babbled in frustration when it wasn't long enough to eat. He heard a warm sound that he instantly recognized as mother, and tried to turn his head so he could see her, searching the darkened corners of his room. When she remained out of his range of sight he desperately reached out a chubby hand in the direction he heard her laughter.

"I'm here, little one." Queen Onyonna spoke softly from her seat near the window.

But the Prince was not satisfied with only hearing her voice. He called out to her, yet still she did not come. This would not due.

With a little grunt of anger the baby tried twisting his body, throwing his weight to one side, flailing his tail, anything so he could see his mother.

Onyonna eyed her struggling baby curiously. He was trying to flip himself over, something he shouldn't be able to do for a little while yet. But he seemed determined, and as she saw him reach an arm over and grip the blanket for leverage, capable.

She stood up then, and began to circle the chamber. The Prince followed her long, slow steps with his ears. He grunted again, still trying to turn over. When his grip slipped and he flopped onto his back again he kicked his legs in fury.

The Queen continued in the shadows to circle him, the glow crystal licking at her feet. But even with her features blurred by the absent light she was now fully in the Prince's view, at last. But he wasn't about to give up on what he started.

He tried the other side this time, arms and legs flailing. He used his tail to push and gripped handfuls of red velvet to pull. Again and again he tried, falling flat on his back each time. The Queen offered no words of encouragement, only circling slowly, round and round.

Prince Vegeta's face was scrunched up tight in fury and determination. He shook his fists and snarled at the glass covering him, swearing that he would roll over even if it took him all night. One last time he heaved, and grabbed, and pulled. With a mighty roar from little lungs he rolled his body with such force he nearly rolled all the way over onto his back again. He lay flat on his stomach, red face slack in disbelief. Then, a huge toothless smile broke across his face and he squealed in triumph. He did it, he had beat biology. He was unstoppable!

Queen Onyonna knelt before the chamber, delicate fingers pressed against the glass. "You did it! I'm so proud of you."

Vegeta reached out to her, trying to scoot closer. That gleam of determination was back as he attempted to tuck his arms and legs beneath himself.

"Oh no you don't." Onyonna stepped around the chamber and reached inside to place a hand on her baby's back. He showed tremendous strength by turning himself over, but he wasn't developed enough to take on crawling just yet. "Sleep now, little warrior. You've done well."

The Prince's little brown tail wrapped securely around her forearm, and he buried his yawn into the red blankets. Within moments his midnight eyes were drooping and small sighs of sleep flared his nostrils.

The Queen unwrapped herself from her son and dimmed the glow crystal with a stroke of her finger. She waited until Vegeta was dreaming peacefully before she slipped from the room, leaving the shadows undisturbed.

Outside the immaculately carved doors a team of guards stood their vigil, backs straight and eyes at attention. More than the usual today, the Queen counted. Frieza's men were there in the palace discussing the fine details of the most recent 'deal'. Her tail bristled at the thought of that vile creature's brutes defiling the halls of her home- stalking where she walked, contaminating what she touched.

She wasn't allowed to attend the meeting. Her mate was locked behind closed doors with monsters come to strip them of all that made them Saiyan. And he faced them alone. Well, not completely alone; Nappa was there with him. But she should be as well. She should be at his side as his Queen, feeding his strength with her own.

But the King thought it best that she stay out of the meeting, to be accessible in the palace.

"Should something happen, you must be available to address it in my absence. That is your duty as Queen."

Bullshit, mind the un-queenlike language, but Onyonna knew for a fact that this was a personal dilemma for him, not just professional. It was his damn pride and his need to prove that he could rule his kingdom without aid. He needed to prove that he had control. But pride didn't matter when everything you were fighting for was falling to pieces.

No, she told herself, it hasn't come to that yet.

She had faith in the King, and faith in her mate. He could take care of this, with or without her physically beside him. Until such a time when he needed her hand to steady his aim she would rule while he dealt with Frieza, and she would raise their son a prince.

But that didn't mean she couldn't be bitter.

A march through the palace usually put her mind at ease. The drafty halls and twisting corridors comforted her with their familiarity; how they never seemed to change. The same red stone, the same jagged corners, and always the same smells.

Onyonna favored the smell of the Hall of Kings above all others. It's scent was old and full of history, like the scrolls and tomes of the archives. But those dusty piles of parchment bound in leather were dead and forgotten. The Hall of Kings was alive with Saiyan culture, it pulsed with the heart of her people. The lingering scents of warriors and Kings long past humbled her and filled her with pride.

But today, something was wrong. The scent was off. She noticed immediately as she neared the hall, her nose flaring in disgust. The scent itself was pleasant, but it reminded the Queen of something far more sinister. There was something putrid, like rotting teeth and charred hair, that curled in the air like a sick lover's caress. It smelled of death and malice.

Her steps did not falter as she entered the hall. She spotted the impurity like a house fire in the night. There near the wall, the back of a tall alien. A long green braid trailing down it's white cape screamed femininity, but the set of it's shoulders belonged to a man's figure.

One of Frieza's men, no doubt. Queen Onyonna decided to leave the question of why this alien was wondering unattended through the palace halls for later. She glanced around for any guards but there were none. She would have to oversee a very thorough refinement of their security.

Frieza's minion turned as she drew near. He had the gall to look caught off guard, as if he hadn't been able to detect her approach. His features were angular on his flawless sea green skin, like the creatures she once battled on the planet Farlifon. Elves; agile and tricky, elegant. But this was no elf. Though his face was soft, his body was sculpted with hardened muscle; the suit of an experienced warrior. His armor was decorated as a high officer.

Zarbon. The Queen had heard many words about him from the King and his Commander.

Her lip curled in false pleasantry as he smiled at her, a dazzling display of perfect white teeth.

"Don't mind me, my Lady, I was just…" His amber eyes cast a distasteful glance around the hall. "Observing the artwork. Quite immaculate. Were these carved using stonetools or fingernails?"

She approached him casually, hands folded over her armored abdomen. "Ki, actually. No tool can mar these stones."

They settled into a silence that writhed in the still air. The smile was still on Zarbon's face, but his eyes ticked with anticipation. An elegant ripple of his cape challenged her as he pivoted.

Zarbon began to pace the length of the wall, his fingernail lightly scraping along the stone, leaving a scar cutting across the faded carvings. The Queen watched the red dust falling to the floor.

"I know the tongue, but, regrettably, I do not know the ancient scripts of your people." He continued his slow strides on long legs, each footstep corrupting the history of the Saiyan people. "Tell me, this story illustrated here. Is it perhaps a gripping tale of some warrior," he spat the word, "honorably conquering a weak civilization, wielding a savage display of power?"

The Queen followed him, trailing her fingers along the scar, soothing the marked red stone.

"It tells of a great hero, the First King, defeating our ancient enemies who would have seen us fall from our newly born throne. It is a most celebrated piece of our history. It speaks of our strength and devotion." Her eyes bore into the back of Zarbon's white cape. "Of our unwillingness to so easily give in."

Zarbon stopped, the red dust continued to fall like blood from a wound.

"I'm sure," he said, his tone light and empty. He turned around, eyes scanning the Queen in the same way he regarded whores that strayed too far from their pens. He smiled. "My, you are positively glowing! You have the radiance of a new mother."

The Queen returned his smile, but her eyes were as hard as the gripping of her hands.

"Forgive me, but i'm afraid i've already forgotten the little tyke's name."

Onyonna raised her chin. "The Prince's name is Vegeta, Dawn Born and Son of the Moon."

Zarbon's expression was unimpressed. "Ah yes, now I recall. You monkeys name all of your first born heirs after one another. How cute."

The Queen's tail twitched and bristled. "Vegeta is a strong name, it means honor and absolute power. It's been passed down the line since the first born king of Vegeta."

"I meant no disrespect," Zarbon said, but his tone was flat.

She turned her sharp profile on him, stepping away. "Of course not. You're just ignorant."

He sucked his teeth at her, eyes narrowing. "My my, is that any way to speak to your guest?"

"You are no guest."

Zarbon chuckled at the venom laced on her tongue. "You're right. Before long, as we stand here, you will be a guest in Lord Frieza's territory."

The Queen stopped, her head turned sharply to snarl at him. "What makes you think we will let you take what is ours so easily?"

"My dear Lady," His angelic face softened, honey curling his words. "Isn't that what you're doing already?"

The Hall darkened considerably, the shadows writhing, calling for blood. Queen Onyonna could hear the voices of her forebears screaming war in her ears.

Her one desire was to tear that smug smile right off Zarbon's pretty face. He was playing with her, like a toy he'd grow bored of before the suns set. This was all a game, it wasn't even war to him. He thought the Saiyan race held no threat to him and his precious overlord. This was a man who commanded and served fear, who's only esteem was in power. Manipulation against honorable battle. This was no warrior. This was a child with a big stick against a colony of ants.

"You have no honor."

For a moment, Zarbon blinked, thrown off by the comment. Then he scoffed in dried astonishment. "And you do?"

"Saiyans have far more honor than you can ever pretend to have."

Zarbon laughed then; the sound would have been warm and charming had the biting tone not set her blood ablaze with hatred.

"I've seen the way you monkeys show your 'honor', and i'm sure Lord Frieza has no desire to have a statue of himself made from dung."

It was Onyonna's turn to step forward. "You talk far too much, soldier."

Zarbon's lip curled. The storm in her obsidian eyes searing her words into his nerves.

"You serve your Lord with your tongue. Our people honor their royal house through loyalty. They have proved they are worthy enough to serve the throne by their willingness to fight. To honor their King, our people need only bend on one knee, not two. They have no need to fill their mouths with their leader's… favor."

The Queen's eyes sparked with amusement at Zarbon's flush of anger at her implications. She couldn't help the smirk from forming on her lips, far from what was expected of a Queen, but the satisfaction was too great. Like with most men, she had found the weak spot.

Zarbon reigned in his anger. "You think that using politics and tact is dishonorable?"

"Not dishonorable, just dirty." She said with a flash of her eyelashes.

The tall green alien visibly puffed out in anger. "Yes, and you dirty monkeys wielding your power like a club and parading across the galaxy like savages somehow doesn't rightfully place you beneath those of us with a brain."

"The only thing that places the likes of you above a Saiyan is your fear of getting down and working for what you keep. To chip your pretty nails, bloody your pearly teeth. You are no warrior."

"And I suppose barbarism makes you one?"

"A true warrior wins his battles using a sword made of metal, not of flesh."

For a moment, something hideous rippled across the flawless features of Zarbon's face. His voice dropped to a guttural baritone as he spat, "you miserable wench!"

Queen Onyonna did not back down as the much taller alien took a menacing step towards her. Her head was high, her eyes steadily glaring into his. She boldly took another step forward, meeting him halfway.

Zarbon glared down at the Saiyan woman, his eyes livid, a snarl twisting his full lips. "What a shame it would be, My Lady, if the Prince were to grow up without any parents."

Her lips peeled back to bare her teeth. "Is Frieza's empire threatening my kingdom, breaking the contract he so carefully negotiated with an act of war?"

The space around them boiled with rising ki levels. Zarbon's eyes shifted down to the Queen's hands, dangerous Ki pooled around her fists like clear flowing water. He took air in through his nose and exhaled in a deep chuckle.

"In due time, monkey Queen, you will get yours. You and the rest of your ilk."

"Not before I twist that pretty braid around your neck, reptile."

There was a riot of unbridled hatred seething in the few inches between them. Zarbon's smile was tight while Onyonna's snarl was vicious and outright.

At last Zarbon took the steps away to a comfortable distance. Gone was the tight anger from his face, replaced by the pleasant composure he kept at their first meeting.

"Of course, My Lady." He placed a hand elegantly over his chest and bowed low, his dark green braid falling over his shoulder. "Forgive me. It seems I have overstayed my welcome."

He straightened back into his full height. Onyonna said nothing as she had to tilt her chin up to return his gaze. Both of their expressions were guarded, but their eyes held nothing back. He was walking away before she could smash her fist into his too straight nose.

"After all, I only came to drop off a gift for the Prince."

Onyonna stilled at the mention of her son.

"I do so hope he enjoys it. Good day!"

And then he was gone, his white cape vanishing around the corner, only his putrid stench left behind. Queen Onyonna didn't have enough time to consider making sure he left the palace before she was racing off to her baby's room in a flurry of her skirts.


King Vegeta glared distrustfully at the chest displayed before him. It was made of a deep blue crystal, framed with solid gold accent. There was a shadow of something nestled inside, a gift, supposedly. Three guards stood with him around the chest, Nappa dutifully at his side. Vegeta sent a telepathic message to his mate to come at once.

"What do ya think it is?" Nappa asked, crouching down to examine the shadow. At least it wasn't moving around inside.

Vegeta ignored the question, not taking his eyes from the gift. His face was set in a grim mask that rivaled the statues glaring at the Saiyans gathered in the room. He was angry and shameful of the meeting he just held. Forced to submit to Frieza's delegates. How disgraceful. It had been torture to listen to the tyrant's terms, listed like a bale of crimes he'd committed towards his people, starting the moment he ever made a deal with the Cold Empire. His own hand threatened to turn on himself as he signed away his people's freedom.

His dark eyes sharpened to terrifying plummets of malice, his blood red cape quivered in his rage. Here he stood a King; his armor crested with the seal of his house, his regality personified in his every feature, the blood of countless enemies spilled before him, entire worlds conquered by his command. And yet, here he stood a King; laying on his back and playing games with a madman.

How disgraceful.

"And you can detect nothing inside?"

One of the guards held up a square transparent device over the chest. Yellow symbols flashed across the tinted surface. A soft beeping caused the Saiyan to shake her head. "Nothing, your grace."

Nappa scratched the tuft of wild hair on his head. "Seems kinda fishy to me. Maybe we should just destroy it?"

King Vegeta was displeased, to say the least, that Frieza would actually dare to send something so outrageously intrusive. Come to think of it, he wasn't the least bit surprised at all. It was just like the slimy bastard. But what really set the King's blood to boil was the fact that while Frieza's actions may have been predictable, his motives were completely unpredictable. What lay waiting inside the chest was anyone's twisted guess. Vegeta didn't think even King Cold would know.

Frieza was known for having an unhealthy love for playing games. But the rules completely depended on the tyrant's ever changing mood.

"No." The King eyed the box like a snake about to strike. "We must know Frieza's game. It could be harmless, and it could be an assassination attempt. We won't know until we open the damn thing."

Just then, the sharp footsteps of the Queen parted the heavy doors. Her long auburn hair curled like a cascade of flames in her wake, and the murder in her eyes told the King that blood must be spilled.

Onyonna had rushed to the Prince's bed chambers nearly faster than the speed of light, heart hammering against the gilded armor framing her chest. She found nothing out of place in the darkened chambers, her baby in the midst of a noisy sleep. The guards reported nothing amiss and yet still she worried, until her mate beckoned her to his side.

She pierced the chest with eyes so fierce King Vegeta thought the crystal might just crack open to reveal it's prize.

She said nothing as she stood beside the King, only passing him a glance that spoke of thousands of thoughts she couldn't voice.

"Open it."

Two Saiyans stepped forward to obey the King's command. The chest opened with a heavy releasing of it's latch and a groan of fine craftsmanship. When nothing jumped out or attacked, the two Saiyans reached inside and pulled out something endless and dark.

Held before them, draping in folds of rich deep purple and shimmering in the light was a blanket emblazoned in white with an intricate royal seal. It was an immaculate piece, carefully crafted. There appeared to be a dusting of precious gems woven into the fabric itself to catch the light. It looked incredibly soft to the touch, lighter than a feather, breathtakingly beautiful.

It filled the Saiyans with revolution.

"Check for toxins"

The next two hours was spent in near silence, only the quiet communications of the guards checking every stitch of the fabric and the occasional bark from their King to "turn it over" or "check again". Vegeta paced restlessly, the stone cracking under his feet. Onyonna toyed with a loose string from the bell of her sleeve. Nappa joined in on the inspection, checking everything the guards had thrice over. They ran their bare hands over the blanket, but no toxins were detected. No hidden razors woven into the stitches, no alien insects, no tracking chips or listening devices. They even scanned it twice more, but nothing came up. There was nothing deadly nor malicious about the piece.

Nappa rubbed the fabric between his fingers. The material was tough, not easily torn or wrinkled, but was impossibly soft.

He spoke to his King. "Sir, it's just a blanket."

But Vegeta knew better. "No. It is an insult." This was Frieza they were dealing with, afterall.

Nappa took another once over of the blanket. It looked like a fancy gift to him.

He must have looked confused because the Queen softly pointed out for him, "look closely at the design."

Nappa squinted his eyes, taking a few seconds to examine it more thoroughly. Well, purple was the royal color of the Ice-jins, and the design was the Cold family's seal…

"Looks more like a threat to me," he said in disdain.

King Vegeta grunted. However taken, the gesture wasn't meant to be friendly. It served it's purpose, however. Vegeta was livid.

"Burn it." He spat, voice tight.

"Wait," Queen Onyonna stepped forward, glancing at the beautiful blanket with a mixture of disgust and sinister delight. "I have a better idea."

Vegeta met her eyes. Cycles ago she wore the same smirk then as she did now; when he was knocked flat on his arse, staring at a charged ki blast in her extended palm, a trail of blood running down her dirt covered brow and into her triumphant eyes. He knew that smirk, and he knew that triumph in her eyes.

"Speak, woman."


Groils were a popular livestock among Saiyans. Their fatty meat put them in high demand and a part of many well known dishes. Groils were large tusked animals that prefered to roll lazily in patches of mud to cool their sweaty hides during the sweltering heat of the day. They gorged themselves constantly on a healthy diet of sewage, which made them great waste outlets for their domesticators.

The Saiyan palace kept a supply of these creatures to feed the royal family. The Groil pens had recently received an upgrade; reinforced fences, a better shaded area, bigger sewage trophs, and now they even had a lovely purple blanket to trample with their muddy hooves.

The balcony overlooking the stables was graced with the rare presence of the King and Queen. Both monarchs sported rather smug grins, standing very tall under the shadow cast by the flagship partially blocking Tarble's glare.

Prince Vegeta, cradled in his mother's arms, shook a sterling rattle in his fist, enthralled by the gentle chiming of bells. His parents discussed the recent renovations in conspiring volume, their deliberate aloofness lost on the baby as he really just wanted to leave the stinky place. But the rattle was so much fun.

Nappa stood silently, still riding the high of satisfaction that came with watching the blanket dumped in the shit soiled mud- with the utmost care of course. A subtle itching of his neck told him he was being watched. He turned his head, finding himself frozen in place by the black ice of the Prince's gaze.

Vegeta stared owlishly at Nappa, then held out his rattle as if to say 'look at this amazing thing I have that you don't!' He shook the toy, making the bells jingle and the sun catch the silver in a brilliant flash. Vegeta smiled and possibly tried to replicate the sound, but only managed a buzzing of his lips that sent spittle down his chin.

"What will we do now?" Queen Onyonna asked of her mate, now openly discussing the situation they and their entire kingdom now faced.

"We abide by the contract." The King crossed his arms, feet set in stubborn alignment to the shuddering stone beneath him.

Onyonna fed off of his anger, a scowl twisting her full lips. "You know as well as I that contract is a chain."

Indeed. King Vegeta could feel that chain latching around his neck, dragging him to his knees while Frieza danced at the other end, tugging and pulling. A puppeteer playing with his toys, a performance for no one but himself.

All the Saiyans could do was try to tangle the strings and hope for the best.

"I don't like this dance," his mate went on. "Having to watch our next steps. Too many politics."

Vegeta attempted a smirk at her expense. "If you're worried about the politics, then we really must be in trouble."

Onyonna usually handled the politics. He much preferred action over diplomacy. Not that the King couldn't manage himself well, he was King after all. But when things got dicy, and the situation became too delicate for unsteady tempers the Queen took over, her charm easily defusing the fires.

"If it's a game Frieza want's, then it's a game he'll get."

She didn't like the sound of that, not against the Cold Empire.

"Frieza won't play fair."

"No." King Vegeta uncrossed his arms and gave the Queen a roguish grin. "But we're Saiyans. When have we ever backed down from a real challenge?"

She grinned back, the spark in her eye answering his confidence. She adjusted the growing child in her arms and blinked at the light reflecting off of his medallion. He shook the rattle at her, then shoved it in his mouth.

Vegeta was hungry again, even though he just fed. A sign of a strong warrior.

A gust of wind set the ribbons in Onyonna's hair reaching like red flames. Prince Vegeta scrunched up his nose at the smell of the stables carried with it. He made a sound that rested somewhere between a cry of outrage and a gag.

"I agree," King Vegeta chuckled at his son, turning on his heel to head back inside the palace. "Come, let us leave this filth."

Queen Onyonna followed close behind. The Prince reached for his father, intrigued by the billowing of his large red cape licking the air like the sea wets it's shore before a storm.

Nappa cast another glance at the now soiled blanket, happy to see that two Groils were engaged in a very active mating display. All over the purple monstrosity. He laughed harshly in the wind, then followed the Royal family inside.


PSA: Don't fuck with the Queen of all Saiyans.