AN: Gee, glad this is so well-received. Guess I should have done a traditional V/B.
Vegeta sat, scowling at the far wall. Chin resting on hand, the King of all Saiyans was lost in thought, while his wife Bulma attempted to converse with him about trivial matters.
The whispers have begun again. When I married Bulma, people thought I was tainting the bloodlines. Then my son came along. We named him Trunks, and echoes of treason for not naming him Vegeta passed through the corridors. Up until the first official power reading, that is. When the word that my son's power level had surpassed the mark previously set for any newborn Saiyan, they shut up. Furthermore, when I became a Super Saiyan, the gossip mills shut down. Now, here he is, eighteen seasons old, and his power level nearly surpasses mine. But the droning has resurfaced. He should be a Super Saiyan. But he is too emotionally detached. I used to think that emotions were a sign of weakness. Now I know the strength they possess. I taught him in the manner all royal Saiyans were taught, though. And that may be his downfall. For if he cannot become a Super Saiyan, the people of this planet may attempt a coup. Heh, measly third class soldiers attempting to harm Trunks. He is my son, and by default, can kill them. But what is a ruler without people to rule?
The chamber door slid open, and Trunks strode in, dripping sweat on the expensive carpeting. Suit ripped, hair disheveled, he looked his parents directly in the eyes before doing a customary bow.
"Why is the Prince so beaten after a sparring session? Are you that weak, boy?"
A smirk so like his fathers began to twitch around the young Prince's lips before settling on the left side of his face. "Well, Father, maybe I should not challenge forty guards at once next time?"
Never one to hide her caring for her son, Bulma rose and put her arm around Trunks, offering him support. "Let's get you to the mending room. Between you and your father, I've seen enough bruises to cover a small giant." Slowly, they made their way out of the room, leaving a slightly pensive King.
Boy, you better figure out how to become a Super Saiyan, or I will be forced to kill you myself.