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? Trunks didn't know, and that was what was so bad about this whole thing. He could deal with it, but he couldn't begin to plan and work through it unless he knew what 'it' was.
Bardock pushed through the last of the crowd, earning him a glare from a noble, and turned back to Trunks. "Take him up to his room," he instructed. "I have to get my equipment. My Lady, would you be kind enough to show him the way?"
Trunks turned to the woman, hoping that he was hiding his surprise; she had been so quiet he had forgotten she was there. "Yes, I will," the woman said softly. Even when she was quiet, she had a deep, husky voice which Trunks found he liked a lot. After a moment of hesitation, she added, "Thank you, Third Class Bardock."
Bardock bowed to her and said, "It was my duty and pleasure, Princess Avia." He straightened and dashed up a hallway, hurrying to get his equipment.
Princess? Trunks thought, trying to remember if Avia was the name of the Royal Princess or one of the other noble families. Though she is pretty concerned about Prince Vegeta, and she's so similar, and so unlike any of the other nobles; she must be the Royal Princess. With a realization that bordered on shock, he grasped that he was alone with his two half-siblings. My family. What's left of them. Oh, Mom, why did you have to die? I need you!
"Are you alright?" Avia's voice intruded on his thoughts.
"What? Oh, no, I'm fine," Trunks said, studying her face carefully. My sister's face and my brother in my arms. Without realizing it, he gave her a gentle smile. "I was thinking about something else."
"I want to carry him," the princess said, reaching for the prince, a worried frown twisting her face.
"Um, ok, but really, I don't mind, and he isn't too heavy for me," Trunks said, reluctantly passing him into her arms. She moved quietly up the hallway, carefully holding him. Trunks wasn't sure that he should follow her, but he was supposed to meet Bardock in the Prince's room and she knew the way.
"He took my punishment," Avia growled, looking down at the boy in her arms. She seemed to be talking to herself, not Trunks. He intended to remain quiet, but she destroyed that intention with her next sentence. "Someday, that ass is going to lose control and kill him."
"Aa-ass?" Trunks stuttered, stunned. "Do you mean the King? Your father?"
"Father! Ha!" Avia snorted. "He might claim me, but I don't claim him." She glanced at him sharply, a slight frown on her face. "Aren't you a bit noisy for a slave?"
"Um, sorry, I guess," Trunks mumbled, and then winced and added, "I mean that I am sorry, and that I guess I'm noisy." He shrugged and added, "Bardock encouraged Mom and me to speak up and ask questions. I guess when you're not in a lab, it's different."
"Oh, that's alright, if I can ask you a question," Princess Avia said with a secretive smile.
"Uh, sure," Trunks said nervously. What would a princess want to know about him?
"Why were you in the Great Hall, alone with the King?" she asked as she turned a corner into a lavish bedroom. Trunks trailed behind her, staring around in awe. The soaring, vaulted ceiling peaked high over his head, and the large bed was draped with pale, fine linens for the day and dark, heavy blankets for night. It was at least eight times bigger than the room he had shared with his mother; the bed alone was almost as large as their room!
She had moved to the bed and laid their brother down on it; Trunks remembered that she had asked him something. "I'm not sure, really," he answered as he climbed onto the bed next to the prince to check his vitals again. "Heck," he added with a tired sigh, "I'm not sure what I'm doing here at all." All these thoughts of his mother and family were pushing away the animation of the last few minutes, and he was starting to feel that dragging exhaustion again.
"Don't you think it was odd that he was asking about your mother? She was a slave. Why would he remember or care about her?" the princess asked, and Trunks' tiredness disappeared as his fear set in. His mother had told him what would happen if anyone found out who he was, and he was sure that it would only be worse if the Royal Princess found his secret. Half-Saiyans, when you could get a Saiyan to admit that they could even exist, were killed at birth. Trunks had heard many times the precautions that Bulma had gone through to keep him secret, and he was desperate not to blow his own cover.
"Well, I don't know," Trunks admitted thinking as fast as he could. "Blue eyes are so rare here that she probably stood out in his mind. And she was a very memorable person."
"Was?" Avia asked softly, her face softening. "You said that you would miss her. Did she die?"
Trunks tried to keep his face impassive, but he knew that he wasn't very successful. "Some men – Saiyans – raped and killed her," he said, hearing his voice crack despite his best efforts. "There were no witnesses, and no way to bring them to justice."
"My regrets for your loss," Princess Avia said softly. "May the gods hear your screams and correct the injustice."
"Thank you," Trunks said, giving her a tight smile. "You're the first person to say that. Most Saiyans don't care about a slave."
"The Montessi don't believe in slavery," the princess said forcefully, shaking her head. "Your mother would have been either a servant or a free worker."
"Montessi? I thought you were Saiyan," Trunks asked, moving slightly so that he could feel the other side of the prince's head, checking for rapidly-growing knots or bumps.
"We are," the princess said sharply, giving him an angry glare. "Most Saiyan think that we are savages or weaklings, or somehow inferior because we chose to live in the mountains, rather than the plains." She laughed, a bitter, hard noise. "Most Saiyans are weaker than a Montessi; the mountains beat my people and shape us. They give us hearts of stone and fists of granite." She tapped her chest with her closed fist and then shook it at Trunks in a defiant gesture that fit her well.
"Mountains? The ones to the far south?" Trunks asked.
Avia looked at him sharply and tilted her head to one side to look at him. "You have been secluded, if you do not know the story of how the savages from the mountains are tainting the royal crown."
"Not tainting, I think," Trunks said, giving her a lopsided grin. "Improving would be a better word."
She shot him a startled glance and then smiled, and Trunks was blown away. My sister sure has a pretty smile, he thought. A very pretty smile – he would have to remind himself that she was his sister until he got used to the idea. "Do all Montessi look like you?" he asked.
"Like me?" Avia asked, a dangerous tone in her voice.
"Darker skin, thicker tails, golden eyes?" Trunks asked, careful to keep his voice respectful.
Yes, yes, golden, near-white or green, and two different kinds of hair," Princess Avia replied, her tone lighter but still brimming with warning. Apparently, her appearance was a touchy subject.
"Two kinds of hair?" Trunks asked, his curiosity overcoming his caution.
Avia reached out and took his hand, causing him to twitch with surprise. She gently pulled his hand into her hair and said, "Do you feel the stiff coarse hair? That is called crown hair, and it is like most Saiyans' hair. It is stiff and keeps the hair off of our necks, shields our scalps, for when we were desert-dwellers in the time before history." When Trunks nodded, she pulled his hand deeper into her hair and continued, "This softer hair in the center of the head is down hair. It is thicker and fuller, and very insulating. We developed this hair over time to shield us from the cold in the mountains." She dropped his hand and finished with a smile, "And that is your lesson in Saiyan evolution for today."
Trunks grinned back at her, pleased that he was forging a bond with his sister. Even if I can never tell her I'm her brother, he thought sadly.
* * *
You are a fascinating man, Avia thought, watching as sadness slid across the slave's features. He was probably thinking of his mother again, she thought, and put her hand on his in comfort. He jumped in surprise, but smiled back at her, though his sadness was still there. Can I put joy in your face again, Sky Eyes? Can anyone? She felt shock at such strange thoughts, but this slave was fascinating.
The doors opened, and Bardock hurried in, carrying his case. Avia pulled back from Trunks and moved away to give the scientist room to work on her brother. "How is he?" Bardock asked, setting his bag next to the bed and leaning over the prince.
"The same," Trunks said, and Avia admired his seriousness and professionalism, and how quickly he settled into that demeanor. "His pulse is steady, and there is some swelling on the head and face, but nothing too bad."
Bardock nodded and pulled out his bio-assessor. Avia waited impatiently; finally Bardock shut his machine down and stepped away from the bed. "He'll be fine," Bardock said, smiling and relaxed. "I'll give instructions to his attendant – Turlip, right? But mostly, His Highness just needs a good night's rest and some cold compresses."
"And Turlip can arrange for those when Vegeta wakes up," Avia said softly, crossing her arms over her chest. She stared distractedly at her brother, wondering if he would survive the next outburst from his father. She wasn't often on the receiving end of Vegeta's temper, but she had received a beating or two and she knew the strength of the King.
"Trunks, now that the prince is settled, we need to get you set up," Bardock said, moving to the boy's side. Fear washed across the boy's face, and Avia felt sorry for him. What must it be like to not have a say in your life, to do only what others wanted of you? With a rush of anger, she realized that she knew something of that feeling; she too was regulated, she too was unable to do as she wished. She clenched her fists as she stared at her brother. He was ruled as much as she, and she would do anything to free him from his slavery. Anything.