Sorry for leaving you guys on such a cliff-hanger, last time. Here's an early update, to make up for it!

In actuality, I am going to be out of town for all of next week, and I'm not bringing my computer with me. So, there won't be a new chapter until the 20th. I decided to go ahead and post it now so that it's one less thing I have to worry about, before leaving. Hope you all are having a great 2017, so far. Thank you to everyone who has been leaving feedback and comments. This has reached just over 4,000 hits, which is insane. So a sincere thank you for all the continued support and reviews that I've gotten from all of you. You all give me the motivation to keep writing this thing. Please enjoy.


Vegeta could barely comprehend what he was seeing. He saw his father lying on the ground, behind his desk. From underneath, blood was pooling on the floor. He was moaning, in pain, and his eyes were shut tightly.

"Oh Gods, no…"

He ran up to him, and tried to turn him over. He groaned, loudly. A gaping hole was in his abdomen. It looked as if his flesh was clawed off of him. He had bruises, scratches, and burns covering his body. Whatever was left of his armor was in tatters, only barely covering his chest.

Vegeta tore off his cape, folded it into a wad, and pressed it onto the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. He took off one of his gloves with his teeth, placed his hand on his father's head, and tried to give him his energy. Despite this, it was steadily decreasing.

"Dammit, father, you're stronger than this! Fight, for the love of Gods, fight… please…"

As he put more pressure on the wound, his father coughed up a glob of blood, followed by wheezing breaths. As he gained consciousness, Vegeta looked around, frantically, for a scouter. To his luck, there was one lying on the ground, next to the desk chair. He snatched it up, put it to his ear, and yelled into the receiver.

"This is Vegeta! I need doctors in the king's study right now! He's been injured in his stomach! And you better hurry!"

He felt his father move. He lifted a shaky hand to his wrist, and slowly pulled off one of his gloves. Before Vegeta could question it, the king used every bit of strength he had left to touch his face. When he looked into his eyes, a genuine smile formed on his face.

Vegeta felt tears weigh down his eyes. "Father…"

"Forgive me… my son. I should have listened to you all those years ago." His speech was interrupted by a series of coughs. Blood continued to fill his mouth.

"N-no, father. Don't speak. Help is on the way. You're going to be fine." Even Vegeta couldn't say those words, convincingly. Deep down, he knew it wasn't true.

He laughed. "Imagine what your mother would say, seeing me like this… maybe I can ask her, in Other World…"

He shut his eyes and silently prayed to every deity he could think of. "Don't talk like that, father. Don't you dare speak like that!"

"V-V-Vegeta, look at me…" He did just that. "I am so proud of you. U-understand that. Then," He coughed, and wheezed in a breath. "Knowing that you know… I can die without-t regrets."

Vegeta shook his head. "Gods, father. I don't deserve your praise. I've done nothing to deserve your praise."

"D-don't doubt yourself, my son-n. Y-You're a stronger and better Saiyan than I e-ever was."

Those words hit him hard, in the chest. Saiyans had their pride, and never admitted that someone was better than they were. Praise and compliments were few and far in-between. When it was given, it was genuine. Vegeta couldn't even think of a moment where his father praised him, personally. He couldn't even speak, from the shock.

His fathers eyes glazed over, and his grip on Vegeta's cheek became weaker. "Take care of yourself... my... son..."

His hand's grip loosened, and the light faded from his eyes. His eyes slid shut, and his body went limp.

Vegeta squeezed his arms tighter. "F-f-father?" He shook him. His bottom lip quivered, and a single tear fell down his cheek. "N-no! You…" No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he knew the truth. His own father was dead. The Saiyan's proud and noble king was lying dead, in his own blood. He was gone, and he was not going to come back. Vegeta gasped, and let out a choked sound. He shut his eyes tightly, and leaned into his father's chest. For the first time in his life, he let go. He sobbed, uncontrollably, and he clung to his father's corpse, tightly.

This was the site that Bulma and Piccolo saw, when they reached the study. Both of them were shocked. She covered her mouth, and stifled a gasp. Her heart dropped. The king was so nice and courteous, to her. She didn't know him for very long, but she knew he was an honorable man. He didn't deserve this fate, at all. Seeing Vegeta cry tore her heart to shreds.

She started to walk towards him, but stopped. She looked back at Piccolo. Knowing what she wanted to do, he nodded. She softly walked behind Vegeta. His sobbing hadn't gotten any better. Gently, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and rocked him back and forth.

He tried to speak, but it came out as a choked sob. She nodded, and whispered comforting words to him. "It's okay, Vegeta. You can let go."

Everyone rushed in, after this. The doctors couldn't believe what they were seeing, looking down and shaking their heads. Their proud king was dead, in a pool of his own blood. They tried to take the king's body away, but Vegeta clung onto it tighter.

"NO!" he yelled. He was acting almost child-like. Through force, they managed to pry his fingers off of his father's corpse. Bulma was still holding him, and tried to calm him down. She petted his hair, and shushed him, softly. As he watched the body being taken out, he closed his eyes and sobbed. The doctors pretended not to notice.

He slowly turned around and leaned his head against her bosom, gripping onto her torn gown. She rocked him back and forth, and rubbed his back up and down. She could feel his heart racing. He was trembling, in her arms.

She sighed. "Where's your room? You need rest."

He shook his head. He looked like he was starting to calm down. "No. There's a room not far from here. It's just down the hallway."

She nodded. She slowly helped him stand on his shaking legs and feet. Piccolo went over and helped him gain his balance, as well. The trio walked silently through the thankfully empty hallway.

"The kingdom will know about everything, by the morning. They'll probably begin the preparations." Vegeta pointed at a door. Piccolo went over, and opened it.

Bulma led him, inside. "Preparations for what?"

He pushed her off of him gently, and he sat on the edge of the bed. He sighed. "For the coronation: my coronation."

"So soon? You're only barely of age."

"That doesn't matter. Our people are vulnerable, without a leader. And I won't abandon them, now." He said nothing else – he just stared at the floor.

Bulma looked at Piccolo, silently asking him to give them privacy. He grunted, and disappeared.

She sat down beside him, and took one of his hands. "My dad always told me to take things one day, at a time, and to savor each day. Tomorrow isn't guaranteed, and we need to make the most out of everything. Who knows what's going to happen, tomorrow? We just need to live through today."

He scoffed. "He sounds like an optimistic fool."

"Maybe he is, but we don't have any other way to think of things. If you have any ways, I'd be glad to hear them." His silence was telling. She sighed. She was keeping him from resting. "Just get some sleep, Vegeta. We're all going to need it."

Before she could stand up, he grasped her wrist. "Stay with me."

It was more of a demand than a request, but she was still shocked. This was so unlike him. "Are you sure?" As if he was afraid she'd reject him, he tightened his hold on her. She nodded. "Okay."

They lied in bed, together. She laid her head against his chest, covered by his blue spandex, and he pulled her close to him. The sheets were pulled tightly over them, as they fell asleep. Vegeta let his thoughts wander, as he dozed off. The future was uncertain, to be sure. Could he be a good king? He didn't know the first thing about delegacy or ruling. When push came to shove, could he answer the call and protect his people? Would he be able to live up to his family's legacy? So many questions were in the air. One thing was sure: he wouldn't run. He would stand by his people, no matter the enemy. He just prayed that he had the ability and strength to do so.