Oopppss...forgot to put comments on the prologue.
Warnings: just swearing at the moment, that will probably change with the rating.
Pairing(s): not sure myself yet, but beware that I am a known yaoi writter
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z or its characters. I don't own anything for that matter.



Chapter 1: Situations

15 years later....

The nineteen-year-old king of Vegeta stalked through the corridors of his palace, servants and nobles alike jumping out of his way. His Majesty, King Vejita was seriously displeased to have been summoned - summoned! - to Ambassador Zarbon's quarters, particularly when it disrupted his already few training hours.

Vejita was not an inattentive king, he kept a firm grip on the running of Vegeta, but the hours he put aside for training were his and his alone. Not to interrupted by the whim of some playboy babysitter sent by Frezia.

Of course, Vejita would be the last one to complain about Zarbon's habits, which at least allowed Vejita breathing room. It was an appreciably different situation than if he had been directly under Frezia himself.

Growling to himself Vejita picked up his pace and hoped that this "meeting" was not bad news. Like, for instance, a visit by Frezia. Such visits were rare but left powerful....messages.

After the last such visit Vejita had been forced to replace several top commanders and senators due to their "inexplicable disappearances". Amazingly all had expressed anti-Frezia sentiments or were discovered to have affiliations with distinctly anti-Frezia groups afterwards. "Such an uncanny coincidence," Frezia had said of the matter, a light smile on his face.

Coming to a stop in front of the Ambassador's door, Vejita took a moment to school his face and emotions into a cool calm. It took little effort after fifteen years.

Deliberately he waltzed in without knocking.


Zarbon turned to punish whoever dared invade his privacy, then upon seeing who it was settled for a scowl. Though he was well aware of the young king's hatred for him, Zarbon himself was mildly fond of the boy. Man, really, he amended as his gaze took in the admittedly small but appealing form of Vegeta's monarch. Vejita matched Zarbon's scowl with his own, clearly displeased at being gawked at.

"King Vejita" Zarbon bowed only the slightest amount, a bow of equals. Vejita didn't appear to notice, but Zarbon knew it chafed the boy.

"May I offer you a drink and a seat, Majesty?" Zarbon murmured in his most cordial voice.

Vejita raised an eyebrow, "Thank you, no Ambassador. Forgive me, but I am pressed for time. May we get to the heart of your...request for an audience with me?"

Zarbon only barely kept a straight face. This verbal sparing with the king amused him to no end. They both knew who had the final say here, yet Zarbon enjoyed the game too much to take advantage of that fact.

"As you wish, Majesty." Zarbon said, putting particular emphasis on the title.

"My Lord Frezia has contacted me," Zarbon noted that to Vejita's credit he did not so much as wince, "it seems that your age has come to his notice."

"My age? What concern might my age be to Lord Frezia?" Vejita's voice was duly uninterested. Zarbon absently congratulated himself on his teaching of the boy.

"You have just recently turned nineteen. As you are aware you cannot take full control of the throne until you are twenty, a year from now."

Zarbon paused to allow Vejita to take in the full impact of that. The leaders of the respective worlds under Frezia's reign were required to take oath to Lord Frezia. Since Vejita had been too young to take on all the responsibilities of king at the age of four, Frezia had delayed the oath until Vejita was fully in his place as king at the age of twenty. The oath was... not a particularly pleasant experience. It also meant that many of the freedoms Vejita and his people enjoyed now stood at risk.

"My Lord believes that some . . . preparation for your oath would be in order. He shall advise me of the details later."

The young king said nothing to that, Zarbon was not surprised. There really wasn't anything he could say.

"As well," Zarbon continued, "there is the matter of an heir. Any leader requires an heir as a certain amount of assurance, and your situation is a tad more precarious than most." The Saiya-jin people had been restless as of late.

Vejita frowned at this, "Ambassador Zarbon, I assure you that there is nothing 'precarious' about my position. As for the matter of an heir, I am well aware of it. My senate has been quite vocal on that point. Please assure Lord Frezia I am looking into the matter."

"I am sure you are. My Lord Frezia merely wished for me to express his concern on the matter." Zarbon added another bow to this statement.

"Lord Frezia's concern is greatly appreciated, however the matter is being taken care of." Vejita returned evenly. "Ambassador," he continued, "if you will excuse me, I am afraid I am rather pressed for time."

"Of course, King Vejita. A pleasure as always."

"The pleasure was mine, Ambassador."


Bulma Briefs swore once again. It was a new swear word, something she had picked up since coming here to Vegeta a year ago. Roughly translated it meant something along the lines of "go take a flying fuck at the nearest sun."

Actually it was probably a bit worse considering the surprise on her guard's face. Raddish..or Radditsu...or something, either way, he was new and wasn't used to her habit of swearing at her work. Yet.

From the way this was going it wouldn't take him long to get used to it either. Bulma bit her lip to keep from screaming as yet another test failed in a puff of smoke.

It was an improvement on the standard scouter. One of Frezia's recent take-overs had involved a planet with highly advanced holographic technology, but it was done only on a large scale. Bulma had been told to bring down the scale to the point where it could be localized to one person, used as a disguise.

This was a lot easier to ask for than to deliver and the fact that Bulma despised the people she was working for didn't help.

Things could be worse, she reflected as she once again sat down to figure out what went wrong. Earth had been swarmed by Frezia's troops just under three years ago, and had lost its battle for freedom a year after that. Bulma had made and lost friends in those fights.

Later she had learned that they were actually "lucky." Most planets were just purged of all sentient life forms and sold off. Earth had very nearly met that fate too. Except someone high up decided that humans made useful slaves. So, instead we're inspected for our talents and used as slaves at every level, bred like horses for labour.

Bulma, as one of the brightest scientists on Earth and - as it turned out - most of the galaxy, had been brought to Vegeta for "safety reasons." She glanced at her guard, a muscle-bound Saiya-jin, Right, for my own safety. Realistically she was actually treated rather well, due to her usefulness. It didn't change the fact that she was still a slave. Her anger boiled as she watched the readouts from yet another round of testing.

"Stupid, lousy hunk of shit! Work or I'll have you turned into a toaster!"

Radditsu sweat-dropped.


In rather less appealing district of Vegeta's capital, Saradu, than either King Vejita or Bulma Briefs dwelled in, a fifteen-year-old orphan stood in the shadows watching people pass by with bright eyes.

Most who dared the streets in this area were servant/slaves who didn't live with their masters, prostitutes, their customers or homeless street-rats like him. Occasionally one could see drunken off-duty soldiers or sober on-duty guard patrols weaving their way through the streets. Those last two were the ones to watch out for, they spelled trouble in the worst of ways.

A rumbling from his stomach informed the boy it was way past breakfast time. Quietly he started to move, keeping to the shadows.

Mentally he debated over whether or not he should take the time to get outside city borders to the wilderness surrounding it. He was strapped for cash and hunting didn't cost anything, as long as you weren't caught. The wilderness was a protected zone, under royal control, and hunting without permission - even to keep yourself alive - was met with less than compassion.

Of course, at this point his other option was stealing goods from the marketplace, but the teen recoiled from that. Even at his most desperate, something about stealing made his stomach clench in distaste.

His eyes tracked the movements of people on the increasingly higher-class streets. If someone decided to have a little "fun" with him here, no guard would rescue him. The lesson had been learned long ago. He was worth less than shit and no one was going to care if something happened to him.

A sharp scream broke his concentration, bringing the boy to a stop. The scream had been female and frightened. It had been coming from... There! The alleyway!

Rightfully he shouldn't get involved. It was probably some slave owner dealing with a problematic slave. It wasn't any of his business and would only get him in trouble.

A second scream, this one tinged with pain, made the decision for him.