Avia marched down the hallway, scattering servants and nobles alike before her. Any who thought to stop her reconsidered when they took in her anger-twisted face, dusty, torn clothing and bruised skin. All the nobles knew the cause, which only made her rage worse; she could hear them smirking behind her, laughing at her.
"Nappa," she growled, her husky voice rumbling loudly in the corridor – louder than she had intended, and one of the nobles was insolent enough to give her a cheeky grin. In response, Avia bared her teeth at him, and his smile disappeared as he jerked away from her. That reaction finally put a grin on her face, the first one she had had all day.
Gods damn Nappa, anyway, she thought, the smile on her face finally creating a good mood. And just in time, too, she realized, as she saw that court had adjourned for the day. Her mother and the King would probably want to see her soon, to discuss whatever issues they felt she needed to know. She needed to clean up from sparring and get ready for that ordeal. My life, she thought, just one ordeal after another.
"Avia!" she heard Vegeta hiss, and she followed her brother's voice up to the top level of the palace. His golden eyes were twinkling with glee, a usual state for the young prince. He was leaning over the railing, gesturing for her to come up to him. "Avia, you have to see this!"
"What could be more important than getting ready for Mother and Father's daily lectures?" Avia asked, but she was already floating up to join her brother. Whatever he wanted to show her could only delay them from meeting with their parents, and she was more than happy to delay in any possible way.
"There's a slave in the Great Hall, and Father is talking with him privately!" Prince Vegeta hissed eagerly, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the balcony that overlooked the Great Hall.
"Vegeta, we don't have time for games. Mother and Father will be looking for us," Avia snapped, now irritated that her brother was obviously pulling a childish and transparent prank on her. It was impossible that a slave would be in the throne room, just as it was impossible that the King would willingly acknowledge a slave's existence by speaking with one.
"Avia, I swear that it's true!" Vegeta said, stopping so that he could look her in the eyes.
Avia stared down at her younger brother, weighing what he had just said to her. When Vegeta swore that it was true, he believed it. "Fine," she sighed, smiling to take the sting out of her grumpy tone, "show me."
Vegeta gave her a big grin so unlike his father's normal smile, and Avia's heart twisted in her chest, just as it always did when she thought about the King and his son. You should have been born on solid rock on a wind swept ledge, she thought at her younger sibling. Your first breath should have been the ice-winds of the peaks, not squalid desert air. But what could her mother have done? The King had spoken, and his word was law. But Avia was still sad when she considered all that her brother had lost due to his father's demands.
Her brother turned a serious face to her and put a finger to his lips. Avia mirrored the gesture to let him know that she understood, though it had really been unnecessary. Looking at his dark face, so like his father's except for its coloring, she was overcome with love for Vegeta, and on impulse, she grabbed him and pulled him to her chest for a rough hug. With an irritable grunt, he wiggled away and glared at her, clearly not amused. Avia smiled and shrugged helplessly, as if to say she couldn't resist, and her baby brother rolled his eyes in response.
Not a baby, anymore, Avia thought ruefully as she started to follow him again. He was fourteen, and would soon be considered an adult. Despite the fact that she was only six years older than he, she suddenly felt very old and tired. I need to go home before my soul dies, before I forget how to be Montessian. She hadn't been home since that horrible day when the King had come for her mother, and had claimed her as his daughter.
Vegeta crept along the hallway, and ducked quietly through the door to the balcony. Avia mimicked him, careful not to make any noise. The King surely wouldn't want his children spying on him, and if he had wanted them to be a part of this, he would have called for them.
The balcony was carved from the same whitestone as most of the palace, with blocky benches bearing the Royal Family crest. The railing was also whitestone, but bloodstone insets bearing the Royal crest dominated the design, reminding Avia of sun-bleached ribs with shreds of meat clinging to them. The lamps were not lit and the balcony was dark; the bright desert sunlight poured into the room through narrow windows below their feet, lighting the room below but casting those on the balcony in shadow. It was also oppressively hot this close to the ceiling where all the sun-scorched air was trapped, and Avia felt herself begin to sweat.
Vegeta crawled down to the railing, keeping low so that he wouldn't be seen. Avia squeezed in next to him, grimly noticing that the heat wasn't bothering him at all. With an uncomfortable sigh, she peered through the railing to see the occupants of the room. In the sun-lit room, a slave only a little taller than herself was in the center of the floor, facing the dais. At this angle, it was hard to see his face, but the bodysuit he wore let Avia know that he was young and in good shape. All she could really see of him was the top of his head, which was full of flat purple hair. The King was sitting on his chair, studying the alien slave. Vegeta tossed her a superior look, and she stuck the tip of her tongue out at him in answer.
"I remember your mother," King Vegeta said suddenly, his voice carrying clearly to the watchers above. Next to her, Vegeta stiffened, but when she glanced at this face, it was impassive. "She was a good scientist and mechanic. Bardock is right, she was difficult to replace; after my father gave her to him, we had a hard time finding another person to do everything she could."
"I miss her," the slave replied in a strong, solid voice, but it was wild with strong emotions. "I will always miss her." Avia frowned, expecting the King to be upset that this slave was speaking so familiarly to him, but he didn't rebuke him.
"Your father was Krillan, a human slave, yes?" King Vegeta asked, sweeping his robe behind him as he stood up. "Do you also miss him?"
"I don't know my father, Your Majesty," the slave answered, his voice now cautious. "Krillan served in the mines in the Waterless Wastes since before I was born, and died there three years ago."
King Vegeta nodded, his hand coming up to stroke his beard thoughtfully. "You have her eyes; I didn't remember her name, but I knew who your mother was the moment I saw you," the King finally said.
"She often spoke of you, My Lord," the slave said, then seemed to wince.
"Oh, what did she say about me?" Whatever she had said was forever lost, for at that moment Prince Vegeta sneezed, the fine sand on the floor irritating his airways. Avia reacted without thought; she wrapped her arms around her brother and pulled both of them back from the edge.
"Who is that?" the King roared below them, and they both heard the buzzing sound him that told them he was gathering ki.
"Me, Father," Prince Vegeta yelled, and then whispered to Avia, "Talk to you later." With that, he was over the railing, drifting to the floor. Avia's stomach twisted with fear for her brother; King Vegeta had a terrible temper, and her brother was taking all the punishment himself, rather than spreading it between the two of them. She crawled to the rail and cautiously looked over.
"Father," the prince murmured, as he landed and dropped smoothly into a kneeling bow. He started to rise to his feet when the open-handed slap from his powered-up father knocked him down to the floor. Avia bit back her cry as she huddled in the balcony. "I hate you!" she whispered to the King. "If you weren't the Legendary, I would kill you!" The King snatched Vegeta up and hit him again, and Avia had to bury her face in her arm to keep from screaming in helpless rage.
The slave stepped forward as if to stop the King.
* * *
Trunks had no thoughts in his head when he grabbed the King's arm, but he knew he had made a mistake when the King's gaze snapped to him. Anger and poorly concealed outrage flashed in his dark eyes, and Trunks suddenly wondered if his mother could have been mistaken – there was no way that he could share blood with that dark gaze. Trunks realized that the man's rage was going to spill over onto him at any second, and in desperation he said the first thing that popped into his head, "Your Majesty, is this your son, the Prince?"
King Vegeta blinked, as if Trunks had said something extraordinary, and Trunks took the opportunity to let go of his arm. The King turned and looked at his son hanging limply from his hand, unconscious. With a snort, the King dropped him to the floor and growled, "Weakling. He's unconscious from two little taps. Must be his mother's blood."
Trunks bowed his head and pretended he wasn't there, hoping that the King would forget about him. It seemed to work; His Majesty stared at his son for another moment, then swept out of the room, his cloak billowing like wings behind him. The second he passed through the whitestone doors and disappeared into the waiting crowd, Trunks dropped to his knees next to the dark-skinned boy, feeling for his pulse with one hand while checking his eyes with the other.
Someone landed in front of him on the other side of the boy, and Trunks glanced up to see a Saiyan woman kneeling down as well. Her golden eyes were locked onto the boy's face as she murmured, "Vegeta?" Her husky voice trembled with emotion.
"His pupils aren't blown," Trunks said, "and his pulse is strong. I think he'll be alright, in the long run." She glanced up at him, and Trunks saw that she was crying, tears running unnoticed down her face. "Really, ma'am, he'll be okay." The tears made her look young, probably younger than she really was; Trunks estimated that she was close to his age.
Rushing footsteps at the end of the hall caught their attention, and both looked up to see Bardock and the Queen hurrying toward them. The Queen's face was twisted with rage and pain as she looked at her son, and Trunks realized that the young woman kneeling next to him must be related to her; the same golden eyes, cresting hair, and dark skin marked the young woman's features. But where Queen Cyrane had a sharp-featured face with a dominant nose, this girl had rounder, softer features. The only mar to her facial appearance, if you discounted the dirt and tears staining her face, was that her chin was too bold, though her lips attempted to bring her chin into proportion by being full and firm.
Bardock kneeled down next to him, and Trunks scooted away so that Bardock could examine the prince. "His pulse is good, his pupils aren't blown, but I haven't had a chance to check for swelling under the hair," Trunks said as Bardock nodded, checking the pulse and eyes himself. Bardock began to run his hands over the boy's scalp, and Trunks took the moment to study his half-brother. He wasn't quite as dark as his mother, and he had her golden eyes, but that was where the resemblance ended. King Vegeta had stamped his features on this child's face strongly: the same sharp, arrogant features, the same gravity-defying hair.
A murmur of noise attracted Trunks' attention, and he glanced up to see some of the bolder nobles moving slowly toward them, no doubt to see how badly the prince was injured.
"Avia, dry your face," the Queen hissed, and the young woman started, her eyes jerking away from the prince. The Queen leaned closer and said, "Don't let them see you cry." She didn't need to say whom; even Trunks could guess that.
The woman nodded and began to rub her face against her arm, but it was a dirty, torn exercise suit, and wasn't helping much. Trunks watched her for a second, then pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her.
She glanced up at him, startled, and he gave her a reassuring smile. When she didn't immediately take the cloth, he tucked it into her hand and said, "Here, go on. I've got more at home."
She gave him a slight smile and began to rub her face; the handkerchief worked much better than the bodysuit and her face was quickly clean. Trunks smiled and nodded to her, letting her know that she was fine, and not a moment too soon – the first of the nobles had arrived, murmuring concern for the prince.
"We need to get him to his room," Bardock muttered to Trunks, "and away from gawkers. Can you carry him if I clear a path?"
Trunks nodded and slid his arms under the boy's legs and shoulders, picking him up easily. He did give a little grunt, to make it seem an effort; he had long since learned how to hide his above-human strength and it had become something he did by reflex.
"Avia, help attend to Vegeta in his room," Queen Cyrane murmured to the young woman. "I'll handle the nobles here." Avia nodded silently, but as she moved next to Trunks, he noticed that she shot dirty looks at the approaching nobility.
Bardock began to work through the crowd, ordering them to clear a path for the Prince. They moved aside grudgingly, slow to move at a third-class's orders. Trunks tried not to grind his teeth, but this elitism and snobbishness really got under his skin after a while. He had thought before today that it was just the way that Saiyans treated their slaves, but now that he was getting exposed to nobility, he was beginning to think that it was the way that all Saiyans treated those socially below them.
And that was his problem. Social status was determined by strength. He knew that he was stronger than most third-classes – hell, when he compared his ki the way that Kakkarot had taught him to Saiyans like Raditz and even Bardock, he was much more powerful. But he was born a slave, and there was no way for a slave to cast off that status. If you weren't strong enough to stop them, then you were enslaved; if your parents were too weak to stop them, why should you be able to? There were no rules for his situation, and Trunks had little faith that any would be written for him.
He didn't worry about it too much before, but the death of his mother and the appearance of the golden light had changed everything. What had once seemed the way that things were was gone, and all that was left to him was the sickening feeling that he was in the middle of terrible changes that would destroy all that he had known.
Like the fact that he had never believed that Bardock would ever sell him or his mother. Now, though, he wasn't sure. If the King was not evaluating him for purchase, then what was he evaluating him for?