It was a hot day. The two suns of Vegeta beat down on the small red car that was transporting the three kids, with Bulma at the wheel, Krillin in the passenger seat, and Goku in the back. They were driving, finally, to the ancient Golden Castle of the First King, the Super Saiyan.

They had just entered the city of Ta-Leikimi, once the seat of the Vegetan throne. It was a big city, although not as impressive as Kingdom Center, and certainly not as new. The buildings were largely in a traditional square shape, made with red brick and mud. Some were decorated with paisley and arabesque patterns, but many were not. There were also large, clearly old trees – this city was north of Daban, and a bit colder as a result.

Goku was entranced by all of it, his little face pressed against the window of Bulma's tiny air-car. In the front she and Krillin bickered over her driving, shifting air pressure jolting them along as they moved at break-neck speed.

Over the last two months it had quickly become clear that Bulma was as stubborn and combative as she was clever – which is to say, very. The term "emotional rollercoaster" was not one Goku was familiar with, but if he was, he would have plenty of examples to cite on the subject. Bulma was volatile, loud, and demanding. She was a poor fit in Master Baru's house, where he demanded silent obedience at all times. Oh, the fighting! He, Krillin, and Ruru would hide in her room, hands over their ears, while out in the living room the walls shook with the power of her voice. She'd spent a lot of nights in tears in a capsule house, marching up and down fuming to herself, or, whenever Goku rushed over to placate her, which was often, to him. And then the next day she'd be bright and charming and funny, and Goku would watch in awe as she sweettalked her way back into Master Baru's good graces. The old man would bluster and fluster and mutter and, gods, even blush, but even he could not resist the allure of a genius student.

You couldn't deny Bulma's intelligence. She hadn't quite mastered Talpe the way she had imagined she would, but she'd had no trouble catching up with Goku and Krillin and then some. But she was getting restless in Daban, and so was Goku. Now that they knew how much of the world there was to see, they wanted to see it all. Now.

They were slowing down as the air-car joined others driving along the main road of the city, and in the distant haze you could see the high pyres of the Golden Castle. It wasn't gold, of course – it was just named after the King.

"Hey!" Bulma rolled down her window and screeched at a passing vehicle trying to overtake them. "Watch where you're going, pal!" She honked viciously at him, and he made an obscene gesture at her in response.

"Jeez, this city is small," she complained. "I was expecting it to be more impressive than this."

"Well, you can't compare everything to Kingdom Center," Krillin grumbled. His feelings towards Bulma were more mixed than Goku's, and the more time they spent in this small, stuffy car, the more mixed they got.

"That's the castle there, isn't it?" Goku pointed ahead. "Do you think all these people are going there too?"

"Huh? Maybe," Krillin said.

"I hope not," Bulma said. "It's so crowded as it is."

It took another hour and a half to navigate the city's narrow, winding streets, and another 20 minutes going in circles as security guards attempted to guide them towards parking. In fact, the guards in and around the Golden Complex were very meticulous. Just going through security was an experience for Goku and Krillin, who watched with fascination and trepidation as human guards waved beeping sticks around and patted down their backs and legs, while an older Saiyan guard observed with a critical eye.

"Hey, be careful with that!" Bulma berated the guard rifling through her backpack. "There's expensive dinocaps in there! If you break anything I'll sue!"

They joined a group of about ten other people, mostly elderly folks both human and Saiyan. Behind them another group of Saiyan schoolchildren, talking loudly and shoving each other over the protests of their harried teacher, was forming.

"Welcome!" A woman had materialized seemingly from nowhere in front of them, arms raised to command attention. She was a middle-aged human woman wearing traditional clothing, her graying hair twisted into elaborate braids on top of her head. "Welcome," she boomed, "to the great castle of His Highness, the Ascendant One, the Uniter of Tribes, the Just Hand, the Super Saiyan, the Golden King of Vegeta."

"May he be eternally praised!" the elders chanted.

"May he, indeed." She turned her gaze to Bulma, Krillin, and Goku, smiling wanly.

"May he be praised," Krillin mumbled uncertainly. Goku nodded. Bulma raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Now," she clapped her hands enthusiastically. "Today we shall walk in the footsteps of the greatest person, human or Saiyan, ever born to this planet. He is the man ascendant, rising above his peers, above his elders and those who would fashion themselves his betters, to lead. He is the uniter of tribes, bringing enemies together in friendship that our peoples may increase in strength, instead of tearing each other apart. He is the just hand, establishing the First Laws, granting rights to humans and to women, protecting the weak from the transgressions of the strong. He is the Super Saiyan, a legend of power not reached before or since. In his great transformation, he was gold. And thus was he the Golden King."

They began to walk, her voice echoing through the halls as she guided them through a wide door and into the depths of the castle.

"In these hallowed halls, our planet's empire was forged." They made their way behind her through a narrower stone door and into another, smaller room. In it stood a long, rectangular table, surrounded by 12 chairs. "It was in this very room nearly 700 years ago," their guide said, "that Womb Law was first written." They began to circle the room. Several seniors used this opportunity to take out small cameras and snap photos. For centuries, women, both Saiyan and human, were forced out of their homes by belligerent sons and brothers and husbands. Stripped of all property and money, rendered into poverty, turned out into the streets to beg and prostitute themselves. What injustice! What cruelty!" She raised her hands dramatically. "Should the strength of the few crush the spirits of the many?!"

"No!" "No!" the elders responded emphatically. The sound of cameras clicking intensified.

Krillin leaned into Goku. "I thought," he whispered, "I thought the strong were supposed to rule the weak?"

Goku scratched the back of his head. "Yes, but" he whispered back, "I guess if they're crushing people…"

"They're not really crushing people Goku, that's just a figure of speech."

"I don't think so."

"Let's move on!" the guide shouted suddenly.

They did, exiting into another, wider hallway. Here the floor tiles were decorated with colorful arabesque patterns, and the brick walls were painted a deep maroon color. Giant portraits hung on the western wall, and it was to these that the guide drew their attention next.

"The court of the Golden King was the home of many great figures in Vegetan history," she said. "The most important was the Lady Tavada. She was the life-long partner of the King."

They looked up. Tavada was pictured seated, hands folded over her knees. Her dress was a bright sky blue color, with large, poufy shoulder pads and silver trimming. Her hair was bright red and braided up in a traditional but simple bun. A few strands of hair fell onto a pale forehead. Her expression was neutral, blue eyes looking out at her new audience. She had an upturned nose and a distinctive mole on her right jawline.

"Tavada was born in a small village near the coast of the Northern Ocean, near what is now Ta-Meini on the sea – "

"Hey!" Goku cried out. "That's right near where we're from!"

"Oh!" the guide said. "Yes. How nice." She turned back to her topic. "She met the great king when he was still quite young, just in his mid 20s. He had journeyed to the Northern Coast to study the ancient martial arts of the Turtle School."

Goku squeeked, but was deterred by a firm pinch from Krillin.

"She became his partner at that time, and traveled with him across the planet. She was extremely influential in drafting Womb Law, as well as in his efforts to abolish slavery and establish protections for humans from Saiyan aggression."

"Did the Golden King study under Master Roshi?" Goku whispered excitedly.

"No, don't be silly Goku!" Krillin whispered back. "He's not that old." He paused uncertainly. "I mean he would have said, right?"

"They were partnered for over 50 years before they were married in temple, as no priest would have married them publicly before that time due their difference in species. It was that kind of injustice that the Golden King sought to eradicate from the planet, and-"

"Miss!" Goku was waving his hand in the air. "Miss! That's not true."

The guide stiffened. "Oh?"

"You said, 'erdicate.' That means he got rid of those rules, right?"

"Eradicate," she corrected. "And yes, that's what I meant."

"But it's not true. Priests won't marry you in temple if you're not the same species still."

Bulma looked at him quizzically. "No, Goku, that's not right."

"My aunt isn't married," he insisted. "The priest in Ta-Meini wouldn't marry them."

The elderly whispered ferociously.

"Yes, well that's what I was going to say," the guide said. "While some priests still continue this bigoted practice, it goes against the very spirit under which the Golden King ruled." She cleared her throat loudly. "Tavada and the King never bore children, but their love and loyalty were so great that when Tavada died after over 80 years together, the King died the very next night."

The seniors made approving noises, and a few sniffled. The clicking of the cameras intensified.

"Because they had no heirs, the great Empire the Golden King had built passed into the hands of this man," she gestured to the portrait next to Tavada's, "the Honorable Lord Jascki Tovos, the first King to take them name of the planet, Vegeta, as his signifying name."

Bulma looked up at a portrait of, for all intents and purposes, the current Prince Vegeta. Actually, the guy in the picture was rather better-looking, probably because he didn't have that intense growl covering his face.

"How come there's no picture of his wife?" Krillin asked. "Didn't he have one?"

"Very little," the guide said, "is known about the wife of the first King Vegeta. We know that they had two children, the second King Vegeta and a daughter. But there are no surviving records that document her life, or that of the daughter." She cleared her throat. "Let's continue!"

She swept them into the next room.


The thud of his feet walking down the hall bounced off the walls as he entered the bedroom. In the center was the bed, a sturdy stone contraption, layered with blankets and sheets and pillows that spilled onto the floor, covering its feet.

He used to think they were excessive, and complained to Tavi about them. Now, he quite enjoyed them.

He took a heavy step forward. There was a giggle.

He grinned, and wrinkled his nose. It wasn't a matter of knowing where to look - the scent was wafting from under the bed. It was just a matter of timing. You had to be fast.

In one graceful swoop, he snatched the covers from the bed, and, with his other hand, dug under the bed and grabbed a wriggling foot, pulling out a squealing, giggling child.

"No!" she squealed.

"Yes!" he laughed. "I've won again!" He swung her up and caught her in his arms rightside up.

"'s not fair!" she complained.

"It is fair. You need to find better places to hide."

He carried her outside, where Jascki was standing, arms crossed but with a playful grin on his face.

"Hello, little troublemaker," Jascki addressed the girl. "Bothering the king again?"

"No!" she protested.

"I'm bothering her," the king said, and she laughed.

He put her down and she ran off, looking for a new playmate – when Daddy was with the king, it was time for work.

"I was just coming to see you," the king said. "Come," he put his arm round Jascki, "we need to talk."

They walked down the hall.

"It's Tavi's birthday next week," he said.

"I know," Jascki said. "I assume Mila is planning something."

"Yes." He smiled. "It seems, now, that we will not be having children of our own."

Jascki stiffened. "You don't know that. You and Tavi are both still young, you have plenty of time-"

"It's alright. I'm not upset. I am grateful to have your family here."

"We're the ones who-"

"Stop." The king turned to face him. There was a smile of genuine affection on his face as he looked into the earnest eyes of his young protegee. "Your children have given me more joy than I ever thought was possible. And I know Tavi feels the same way. That's why, when the time comes, I want your son to sit in my place."

"What?!" Jascki's eyes widened in shock. "No, no, what are you saying? You're not going to die!"

"Everyone dies, Jas."

"Not you. You're a Super Saiyan. You're beyond mortality."

The king sighed. "I'm not. I can't explain my transformation, and I can't claim to know the depths of its power. But I know I'm not immortal. And I need to know that this kingdom I've worked so hard for won't break apart the second my soul leaves my body. There's no one else I can trust but you. You, I know. You've fought beside me. You believe in this. So few do. These generals and lords and earls and dukes, they follow me for my power. When I'm gone they'll go back to fighting each other, murdering humans, taking slaves, all of it.

"You believe. And you have the power and the pedigree to make them fall in line. They respect you and your clan. They'll respect your son after you. And your son, I know, will preserve this legacy. I know because I'm raising him." He blushed sheepishly. "I mean. You're raising him. He's yours. But I-"

"You're a better father than I could ever be," Jascki said earnestly.

"No." He smiled. "I'm just grateful you and Mila are willing to share."

"There's nothing I wouldn't give you," Jascki said. "You could have Mila if you like."

The king burst out laughing. "No, you don't! Don't you try to push her onto me."

Later that night, Jascki recounted their conversation with his partner, Mila. She sat on the bed, listening quietly while he changed, braiding and unbraiding her long, mauve hair.

"I can't imagine life without him," Jascki said, sitting heavily next to her. "I don't know how he thinks I'll keep this kingdom together. He IS the kingdom. We're nothing without him."

"What else did he say about the children?" she said.

"What?"

"The children. What else did he say?"

"I-just that he was grateful we were sharing them with him and Tavi. But we're not, I mean, not really, if anything-"

"I mean what did he say about the children and the kingdom. He wants our son to be king. What about our daughter?"

Jascki paused. "He didn't mention it."

The silence became tense.

"Look," Jascki said, turning to meet her gaze. "She's younger. Obviously she won't be the heir."

"Because she's younger," Mila repeated. "Not because she's human, or because she's the girl-"

"No!" his fist pounded the soft mattress. "No! No. He isn't like that. You, of all people, you know. And," he waved a frustrated hand in the air, "you need to stop calling her human. She's not human. She's half-Saiyan, half-human. You're just perpetuating the problem with talk like that."

"She doesn't have a tail."

"That doesn't matter. It won't matter, soon."

There was a pause.

"What happens to her? When our son is king, what happens to our daughter?"

Jascki opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. "She'll, she'll be a princess. We'll arrange a good marriage for her. We'll give her land, a house, animals."

Another pause.

"He loves her," Jascki said. "He'll provide for her."

"I'm so grateful," Mila said.

"Please. Don't."

"Tavi warned me about this. She told me, about the children. And she said I had to watch out for my daughter. She said if I didn't watch out for her, assert her, she'd disappear."

"She's not your daughter alone. He's watching out for her. And, and so am I. She's my child too. You don't love her more than I do."

"The question isn't one of love. It's never been about love. Because love isn't enough."


The final stop on the tour was the courtyard. As they stepped outside the second sun was low in the sky, and the bright light of noon had subsided. The afternoon rays bounced off the great statute, the final testament to the reign of the Golden King.

He stood in the center of the yard, eight feet tall, feet spread in a fighting stance, fists raised. His eyes were painted a pale green color Goku had never seen on a real person before, and his hair was carved upwards into spikes, tipped in gold. His expression was not one of anger, or even confrontation. His power was not a challenge. It was a statement.

The guide was saying something about a day when the Golden King demonstrated his Super Saiyan power, without needing to fight, to legions of awestruck Saiyans and humans. Goku wasn't listening. He looked up at this great figure, this man who's adventures he'd read about in Master Baru's giant book, and he had one thought.

I'm going to be a Super Saiyan.