Trunks and Bardock bowed to the princess, but she seemed to be lost in thought and didn't acknowledge them.  They moved quietly out of room, trying not to disturb her.

"That is King Vegeta's daughter, right?" Trunks asked as they moved up the hallway. 

Bardock winced and answered, "So he claims, though I wouldn't say so to her.  She's not fond of him, and doesn't care to be called such."

"Why?" Trunks asked, curious about his siblings.

Bardock pierced him with a sharp look, and stopped walking.  He carefully took Trunks by the shoulders and said, "That is none of your business, boy."  He frowned at the hurt look on the slave's face and said, "I know that you are used to asking any question of me, Trunks.  But you are in the palace now, and you can't ask whatever you want.  You can answer your own questions by keeping your ears open, and thinking about what you hear."

"But I'm not at the palace, am I?" Trunks asked, hating the panic that was closing his throat and searing his eyes with burning tears.  "I mean, I'm just here for a visit, right?  You wouldn't sell me, wou-would you?"

Bardock grabbed Trunks' face and murmured, "No need for tears, lad.  I've asked the King if you can stay here for a while – think of it as a training vacation.  Slaves in the palace have an easier life, and there is so much that you can learn here, things I could never teach you."

"B-b-but, Mom's experiments!  I was trained as her backup – without me, you'll be set back while you train someone else," Trunks said desperately.

"That is not as important as you," Bardock hissed.  "There are things that you will need to know if something were to happen to me.  You can learn those things here I can't teach you."

"What can I learn that you can't teach me?" Trunks blurted angrily.  "I won't learn lab work here!  All I'll learn is how much Saiyans hate me!"

"Hush boy!" Bardock snapped, shaking him lightly – or trying to.  Somehow, in his desperation and fear, Trunks was immovable.  "You'll be attending to Lord Vegeta, the King's father!  This is a great opportunity for you to gain reputation and power, as much as you can!"

"Lord Vegeta?" Trunks asked, grabbing onto one thought: my grandfather! 

"Yes, at the request of the Queen, who seems to favor you, and the order of the King, even after you grabbed his arm," Bardock chuckled lightly.  "The gods must favor you too, if you survived doing something that stupid without being blasted into small red pieces."

"After?"

"Yes," Bardock said with a smile.  "After he left the throne room, he told us that he agreed to my request that you stay in the palace for a time and care for Lord Vegeta."  He chuckled again.  "Perhaps he was impressed by your courage – or your stupidity."

"Maybe," Trunks said with a sickly chuckle.  It didn't sound so bad, but to leave his home?  To leave all the comforts and familiarity of everything he had ever known?

"Come on, boy," Bardock said, rubbing the young slave's hair, mussing it up lightly.  "Let's meet the former King."

*  *  *

Bitterness and pain was all that was left to him.  He should have been dead long ago.  The former King of all Saiyans sat on his balcony, huddled in his morning robe.  It was nearly supper; technically, he should have dressed hours ago, but he wasn't going anywhere and he wasn't doing anything, so it didn't matter.   Once the mightiest man on the planet, he now huddled in his room, waiting for nothing, tormented by his very existence.

But something was going on, and even if he was trying to ignore it, his still-sharp mind and keen senses caught hints.  A change in the air of the palace, the whispering of the servants; all signs pointed to a change.  As if to agree with him, cool air, a true rarity in the desert, blew across his face, ruffling his white-streaked beard.

Lord Vegeta snorted irritably, thoughts of change fading as he considered his beard.  White hair! he thought angrily, his eyes locked on the offending locks.  And his head was just as streaked.  With a sigh, he shifted unhappily, trying not to remember that he had had no white the day that Vegeta had won the crown from him.

I should have died that day, he thought, feeling his eyes mist with tears of helpless frustration.  I shouldn't have to live here, suffering, pitied by all those who once feared me.  He couldn't even feel shame at his tears – he had no pride, and no shame left to him.

The doors to his room thudded open and he twisted in his chair to face the interlopers.  His frown faded as he recognized Bardock – he was probably here to give him a check-up, to make sure that he was still living in oblivion.

Then the high sunlight caught a flash of blue behind Bardock, and Vegeta's heart froze in his chest.  Her! he thought.  The slave that he had sent away, that he had given to Bardock.  Another step revealed the truth, that the slave behind Bardock was a young man who just happened to share her eyes.

But those eyes!  They had burned themselves into his mind; he had never been able to forget that night when he had stumbled onto his son and the slave, together.  His son had ordered him to stay out of it; he had quickly given her to Bardock to get her out of the palace and away from his son.  And not three days later, Vegeta had come at him with hate in his eyes, and had defeated him in a nimbus of golden light.  He had expected to die that day, and when he didn't, he knew it was because his son wanted him to suffer from his defeat.  He had also been sure that the slave would show back up in the palace.  Apparently, the brat had thought it through and realized that a King could not consort with a slave; Vegeta had started to search a bride almost immediately.  But Vegeta was convinced that the removal of the slave had been the catalyst that had sent his son after him.  It had never been the drive for the crown, but revenge.  Otherwise, he would be dead now, instead of suffering, held from honorable death like a criminal. 

"My downfall," he whispered, his head dropping onto his chest.

"Your Highness?" Bardock said, bowing lightly and stepping forward.  "May we bother you for a moment?"

Lord Vegeta heaved a heavy sigh and waved them forward as he raised his head again.  Both men moved closer, but Lord Vegeta only had eyes for the blue-eyed slave.  There was something about the young man that was familiar, something besides his eyes.  His stance, his body, his movement, everything screamed familiarity, but there was nothing he could clearly lay a finger on.

"Lord Vegeta," Bardock began, and Lord Vegeta heard the hesitation in his voice.  Most of the nobles were nervous around him, as if his shame was contagious.  The slave was boldly watching him, with an almost eager expression on his face.  "This is Trunks Briefs.  You remember his mother, the science genius that you gifted me with?  This is her son, and he will be attending you."

At that, Lord Vegeta took a closer look at the boy.  Strong arrogant features framed those perfect blue eyes, and a shock of purple hair rounded the boy's exotic appearance.  The body in the suit was strong and well-muscled, surprisingly fit for a slave from a laboratory.  "Do you have any experience in attending to a noble?  Or are you going to be an interference as well as a pain in ass?" Lord Vegeta asked, watching the boy swallow back his pride.  That was an interesting reaction from a slave who was supposed to have lost all arrogance long ago.

"My Lord, I admit that I have never done this before," the slave said, holding his head high.  "But I am a fast learner, and I'm sure that I won't disappoint you."

"Really?" Lord Vegeta asked, pushing himself out of his chair.  "Then make me a Red Sands drink, light on the jalloo, and make it quick."  He pointed at the drink bar half-hidden in an alcove, then turned to Bardock.  "How have you been?  Are your experiments going well?"

With half a mind, he listened to Bardock; the other half was paying attention to what the boy was doing.  The kid had moved over to the computer terminal, and was fiddling with it; after a minute, he moved over to the bar and began to work there.  Another minute and the lad was moving over discreetly to him, a glass of red liquid in his hand.  Lord Vegeta took it without comment and sipped it.

Startled, he nearly spat it out.  It was correct, and good to boot.  He hated Red Sands, but something had been done to it to make it better – fruitier. He couldn't even taste the jalloo.  He waited for Bardock to wind down, and then said, "So this boy has been assigned to me, by my son no doubt, and I have no say."

"That is one way to look at it, Your Majesty," Bardock said, his tone respectful and diplomatic.  "Another would be that your son wanted you to have someone smart, careful and physically capable to serve you, as you currently have no attendants."

"Did the brat-King tell you that I don't have any attendants because I made their lives so hellish that they refused to serve me?" Lord Vegeta growled. "Did it occur to anyone that I might not want attendants?"

"I am following your son's orders," Bardock said softly.

"Yes, fine whatever," Lord Vegeta said, waving his hand dismissively.  "I knew that eventually they would give me someone who couldn't refuse to serve."

Bardock merely inclined his head, refusing to argue or acknowledge the former King's statement. 

Finally, Lord Vegeta sighed and downed the drink in one fluid gesture.  He dropped the glass on the chair and said to Bardock, "I have to prepare for dinner.  If you'll excuse me?"

Bardock bowed and turned to Trunks.  "I'll check on you tomorrow, alright?"

The boy nodded silently, and Lord Vegeta and Trunks watched Bardock leave.  When he had disappeared around a corner, Lord Vegeta turned to the boy and said, "Shut the door.  Get me dressed for dinner."