Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball / Dragonball Z / Dragonball GT.
Have a good read.
That afternoon, the news had begun to spread from mouth to mouth. Each and every Commoner in town now knew about the execution of Goten and Trunks, and if one were to look back to the origin of the communication network which had formed he would see Gohan at the centre of the circle. He had decided it was now the time to make good use of his status and step out of the seclusion he had gone through after so many years, so he revealed to the people—starting from those near Videl's house—the radical course of action taken by their ruler.
In the past, although it was known to everyone that the Prince and his trusted Praetorian aide would sometimes visit the town and interact with two certain Commoners, they had no idea who those particularly blessed and lucky people were. However, now that Gohan had revealed himself to be one of the two said people, they found it very hard not to believe him. His credibility was just consolidated when he, although reluctantly, showed them the letter written by Trunks as well as the bodies of his brother and friend as unquestionably solid proof.
No doubt, Vegeta's decision quickly achieved the status of being highly controversial. Since this particular piece of news had been the topic of the morning, it didn't take long for it to start propagating and finally leaked into the city via an extended network of communication. The power of words wasn't something to be laughed at; combined with interactions between people, the speed at which information pertaining to this case disseminated increased exponentially over time. As a result, by early afternoon there was no single soul outside the castle grounds who wasn't aware of the news.
Nobles, upon learning about the execution, grew indignant and started to doubt Vegeta's kingship. What would he do to them if he had the guts to murder his own son for whatever reason? And that wasn't considering the fact that he had openly and so whimsically violated what the Constitution had stated regarding the penalty of illegal interactions. They couldn't do much more than plan a protest march, though, since a good majority of them were non-fighters, and most of those who did fight were obviously many notches below the Praetorians in terms of power level.
However, things weren't the same beyond the city walls, especially when Bardock arrived at the scene.
When he arrived at Videl's house and learned about one of his beloved grandsons' death and its cause, he totally lost it and went bananas. It took a considerable amount of effort from Gohan and Videl to subdue and prevent him from rampaging, and what an accomplishment it was when they finally managed to do it considering Bardock's seemingly fathomless reserve of strength. Even then they still needed a heart of steel to calm him down due to the incessant stream of cusses coming out of his mouth, and when they finally did they found themselves as emotionally and mentally exhausted as the older man.
After many, many glasses of water, Bardock stood up and insisted on seeing Goten. Videl showed him her room where the boys were, and figuring he would appreciate some privacy she left him alone and closed the door so as not to disturb him. The full-grown, just like Gohan, then sat on the edge of the bed beside his grandson's body, but he just looked at him without speaking a single word. He didn't know how to feel, what to do, or whether he should think of himself as having lost his mind by talking to the now lifeless boy.
When he looked at Trunks, however, his heart began to fill with indescribable rage; he had read the letters and Gohan and Videl had told him the root cause of this ordeal they had to go through, which made his hatred toward the Prince shot right through the roof. Bardock couldn't believe he had dragged Goten into what was supposed to be his own problem, and although Goten wasn't exactly innocent for having obeyed him, his biased judgment made it extremely hard for him to forgive Trunks—even harder than forgiving Goten—for coming up with that insane idea of his.
Driven by fury, he clenched his teeth and clutched his palms so hard it drew blood. At first he was thinking of just letting it out right here, right now, but he still listened to his conscience and decided not to. Besides, he was in someone else's private property, and destroying it wouldn't make things any better than now. As much as he wanted to murder Trunks, he couldn't because he was already dead, and there was nothing he could do but save his anger for another occasion when it would be needed more; he knew that time would come very soon.
So, Bardock calmed himself down and took a seat. When he once again saw Goten's face, a calm but expressionless face, familiar painful pangs of loss assaulted him; he was reminded of his long lost son, of which his youngest grandson was an exact carbon copy although not so much on the personality side. It was true in the past he used to expect Goten to follow Kakarot's footsteps, but seeing he had grown into an abnormally playful and hyper child, he knew it wasn't going to happen. Besides, Gohan was there, and he had always seemed to be more than ready to live up to his expectations.
The bright side of Goten had more often than not irritated him, but it finally gnawed its way through his defences and softened his disposition toward the boy, although he wouldn't exhibit it in an outward manner. Despite his coldness, deep down inside he had always harboured a sense of protectiveness toward him, possibly because he reminded him so much of his son. How he wished he had displayed his affection in a more normal way… but it was now too late.
Even though he had said absolutely nothing and looked as stoic as ever, Bardock was utterly devastated in the inside. Never before had Bardock felt like this before, not even when he lost his son and daughter-in-law. Truth be told, he cared for Goten more than he ever did for his son, most probably due to the child's constant need for help and his perpetually positive outlook on life. Unlikely as it might seem, he had changed him into a better man, and it was obviously for the better; that was the reason why he decided to stay and watch over what was left of his family, whose two little young members had become a part of his life.
Then, for maybe the first time since Gohan's birth, he felt his vision becoming blurry as his eyes welled up with water. The loss of yet another of his loved ones had torn a huge hole in his heart nothing else could ever fill in. At the same time, though, it dawned upon him the reason behind his other grandson's mention about a major battle; he believed Goten's passing had synchronised his mind with Gohan's and gave him one final motivation to fight. Realising this, he stood up with unparalleled determination and strengthened his resolve, enough to prevent him from shedding a tear.
"I'll avenge you. Anyone who takes my life away from me and lives to tell about it will have to die," he spoke with calm demeanour although he was broken inside, "I'm sorry for being a harsh grandfather… but I've seen your strength. I can tell you've grown into a very strong warrior, especially for someone your age, and I'm very proud of you."
Bardock then proceeded to ruffle Goten's almost unique hair which still stuck out prominently into all directions even in death. "Rest well, my little grandson. And when you finally get to meet your parents, give them my regards."
In the castle, the situation was just as uncontrolled as it was outside.
That morning, Bulma went to the dungeons to pay her son and his friend a visit. She figured they would appreciate some consolation before their sending off later in the evening. However, when she set her foot on the castle yards, she couldn't believe what she saw; the bailey was littered with corpses of the patrol Praetorians, lying on the ground with their neck snapped but without any signs of struggle. It was as though they had been slain by someone lurking in the shadows: an assassin, as it were. And the horror didn't end there.
She descended the set of stairs leading to the dungeons and found the dungeon keeper lying lifeless just beside the gate which was wide open. Seeing the body, a dreadful feeling started to course through her body, and as she ventured deeper and deeper into the dungeons she grew more and more anxious. Obviously someone had broken into the dungeon and, assuming it was the same person all along, it was more than just possible the patrolling guards had been neutralised for this reason. If so was the case, there was a high chance of the culprit being someone exceedingly strong and crafty. With such a person on the loose, the safety of all the prisoners including Trunks and Goten was at stake.
When she finally got to the boys' holding cell, her fears were confirmed. The door was wide open and there was no one inside; the only indications that the cell had been occupied were tiny morsels of paper strewn all over and a sheet of thin cloth provided to Trunks and Goten by the dungeon keeper as a poor substitute of a quilt. Bulma could have felt relieved since there was the possibility of them being bailed out by someone, but for some reason she knew it wasn't the case and that something very awful must have taken place.
Therefore, intent on finding out what exactly had happened and where Trunks and Goten had disappeared, Bulma began asking around for clues. That was when the news was propagated; in just an hour, every single person in the castle was aware of the prison break. Tension escalated and anxiety arose for now their security had been compromised, which enabled people with malicious intent to make their way into and out of the castle grounds with extreme ease. In order to prevent that from happening, Bulma stationed some of the top Praetorians on the gates and the bailey to ensure their safety.
She figured it would be a good idea to expand her search further and include the city, or even the town if necessary, so she found her most trusted Praetorian, Fasha, and requested her escort. She agreed and both ladies promptly headed straight to the vehicle bay, but they were halted en route by another Praetorian. Panting and seemingly having something urgent to disclose, he saluted her by genuflecting before her.
"State your business, and make it quick," ordered the Queen. It was intended to be imperative, but her shaky voice toned it down.
"The people… the citizens," the Praetorian began as he got back to his feet, "They are holding a demonstration march outside the walls as we speak. The situation is getting more and more uncontrolled."
Bulma produced a noticeable frown upon hearing about the news. "Demonstration? About what? What is it that they possibly want?"
"Forgive my discourtesy, Your Majesty, but I believe by seeing it yourself you shall gain more insight than if I try to explain."
Torn between two options, Bulma weighed the pros and cons of each before deciding to have a look on her people first. Although the level of urgency was slightly lower, demonstrations and protests were unheard of ever since she could remember. As she made her way hastily to the observation deck atop the highest pinnacle of the castle she felt as though she had been in a race against her own heartbeat; two major events had happened in less than a quarter of a day, and she couldn't help being suspicious that they might be related to each other.
Even with her naked eyes she could observe a multitude of Nobles—no less than a hundred of them—crowding on the city side of the gates. It looked like they brought some banners with them, so she looked through the telescope in hopes of reading the writings as well as learning about what had triggered the demonstration. When she did, though, how she wished she hadn't.
Acting without regard to people's feelings, truth could be cruel and unrelenting sometimes.
She became numb to the passing of time and suffered from tunnel vision. Colours lost their chroma and objects were gradually reduced into their greyscale version.
Her world was shattered beyond repair into tiny morsels.
Hands trembling and hanging limply on her sides, Bulma could do nothing but stand where she was and stare blankly into space, stupefied and unable to bring herself into believing what she had just seen. Had she not been in a healthy state, there was no doubt she would have fainted on the spot.
The sight of her Queen being in total shock unnerved Fasha to no end. "Your Majesty, what's the matter?" she asked.
Bulma produced no answer, but before Fasha could repeat her question she darted inside the castle again to find Vegeta and confront him about the fact. Knowing Bulma would exhibit such a reaction, the other Praetorian could only stoop his head dejectedly and retreated inside with small steps, leaving his comrade all by herself on the observation deck.
Curious, Fasha too looked through the telescope in order to find out what had made the Queen react in a grim manner like that. When she did find out, she reacted in a similar way; on the banners the people brought with them were written 'The King is a murderer', 'Heartless tyrant', 'We know what you've done', and the likes, but there was a particular one which more or less summarised the root cause of the entire ruckus.
It read: 'What are we to you if you could do away with your own son?'
"Vegeta!" Bulma cried as she forced the door to the throne room open with an invisible but powerful energy wave.
The King, who was in the middle of his training with an imaginary foe, was taken aback by the extremely rude way his mate had made her entrance. He growled and rolled his eyes in frustration for having been disturbed, but ignored his mate and carried on nonetheless. Stubborn and demanding as he was, he thought if she was there for something important, it would need to wait until at least he felt contented of his training, which could very well take another hour or two.
However, the idea of waiting didn't occur to Bulma as favourable. She walked over to Vegeta, her heart burning with an untold amount of an amalgamation of anger, resentment, and disbelief, and interrupted him. "I can't believe it! You've acted against the verdict!"
"I don't understand what you're talking about," said Vegeta coldly without even shifting his attention from what he was doing, "Don't you see I'm busy? Now get lost, woman! This conversation never happened."
"Don't play dumb with me," Bulma seized his collar and hissed maliciously, "I know what happened to Trunks and his friend."
Normally Vegeta would blast into oblivion anyone who dared to lay even a finger on him, but this was his own mate. Although the two were locked in this awkward position, there was no denying the atmosphere was thick with tension to the point that one could possibly scoop it from the air. Vegeta then ordered the dumbfounded Praetorians who happened to be standing guard in the room to leave immediately, and when they finally did, he broke free of Bulma's grasp, shoved her away from him, and turned his back on her.
After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Vegeta began a conversation albeit in a very curt and coarse manner. "How?"
"The people," replied Bulma, "I'll have you know, they're flocking outside the gate in protest of your… horrible decision. Tell me it's not true, Vegeta. Tell me you didn't do that."
"Tsk. Those miserable pieces of garbage sure are a chatterbox," the male Saiyan frowned in exasperation, "I knew I should've silenced them too when I had the chance earlier."
There was no need to repeat that sentence for Bulma to understand the implied meaning behind it. "So it's true! You did that… you… you murdered them!" she hollered hysterically, thunderstruck by this revelation.
"How many times I have to tell you, woman, that I don't care in the slightest bit!"
"Trunks is our son, Vegeta! And you… how could you kill him just like that?"
"He WAS our son for two reasons. One, he had brought shame to the family. Two, he's DEAD. Now get over it!"
"You heartless person! We've raised him together, for crying out loud! We showered him with our love and did everything in our power to keep him happy! And what now? Everything's wasted and has gone down the drain!"
"YOU showered him with YOUR love," Vegeta growled and shot Bulma his best death glare very accusingly, "That's why he grew into such a soft, contemptible brat vulnerable to petty attachments."
Finding his reply highly absurd and hard to believe, the Queen retorted in her late son's defence. "What a self-centred man you are… that's our job as a parent, you—"
"I don't want to hear your nonsensical jabberwocky anymore!" Vegeta roared, cutting Bulma mid-sentence, "If you don't have anything better to say, get out of here!"
Again, silence rang in the air and the complete lack of sounds was deafening. Bulma was at total loss of words, unable to come up with a rational argument to counter Vegeta's highly irrational strings of sentences. For the first time in her life she regretted her decision to give birth to Trunks or be the King's mate for that matter; had she decided against it, although there was a non-zero chance she could have been shunned and demoted, she would have spared two innocent lives and the Kingdom from starting to fall apart.
Having run out of motivation as well as options, she decided to opt out from current affairs and throw everything at the supposed ruler of the Kingdom. Her anger brought her to the verge of exploding; to tell the truth, she could very well confront Vegeta the hard way on the spot and fight a battle to the death, but she didn't do it. Instead, she satisfied her sadistic side by leaving him alone in his endeavour to assuage the rampaging crowd outside and—as she put it—letting him have a taste of the people's fury.
"Everything's yours now," she said as she turned around and walked toward the door, "Good luck on being responsible for what you've done, you half-baked good-for-nothing. I'd rather die than help you."
Her reservation, though, would soon prove to be her own downfall.
When she turned around, Vegeta concentrated his energy on his palms. Quickly he cupped them in front of him, aiming at Bulma's back and ready to fire without her knowing. Despite the small size of the sphere between his palms, the wave would be very huge and the resulting explosion would surely raise alarm, but he didn't care. Besides, this attack wouldn't leave any evidence of murder; those unlucky enough to be in its path would simply be vaporised.
With a demented smirk gracing his lips, he said silently just as his mate finished her last sentence ever, "Let me assist you with that."
