"No one will miss you," the mystery woman whispered back. Her voice changed, became slightly pleading. "I've been watching you for a while now. I want you right now; I can't wait."
It was becoming harder to think; all he could focus on was the curve of her body in the suit. "Alright, if you say I won't be missed," he caved to her suggestion.
With an excited giggle, she pulled him out of the room into the side hallway, and Trunks had to laugh too. He was going to be initiated into the biggest of all adult secrets!
She stopped in front of one of the doors in the hallway and put her ear to it. Trunks recognized it as one of the smaller sitting rooms. "Um, shouldn't we go somewhere more private?" he asked nervously.
She turned the knob and opened the door. "This one has a lock on it," she said, clicking the bolt over so that it would automatically latch. With a jerk of her head, she added, "Come on in, Sky Eyes."
Trunks hurried into the room, never taking his eyes off of her. She pushed the door shut, and the room fell into complete darkness. "Hey!" he yelped.
"I said by touch, not by sight," her voice carried forth in the dark. There was a rustling of cloth, and then she was standing next to him, touching his arm.
He reached out and caught her, turning them both so that they were facing each other. With a triumphant grin, he ran his hands over the body suit up to her face. Instead of hitting a mask, he was touching skin, and he sighed with pleasure at the sensation. His thumb found the edge of her lips, and he used that as a guide to kiss her. It was a heady experience, sweet and maddening at once, only slightly spoiled when he bumped his tongue against the voice modulator.
"Any guesses?" her voice startled him, but he couldn't mind.
"Nope," he murmured, trailing kisses down her face. He wanted to continue down her neck, but the suit was in the way.
"Another clue, then," she whispered and he felt her move. The body suit shifted away from her neck, and Trunks' breath escaped him as he felt her skin under his mouth.
It became a blur of sensation – her skin under his hands, her hands and mouth on his skin, the taste of her, the feel of her – he was lost in a dizzying swirl of ecstasy. He felt so awkward, so clumsy – but she was patient and kind, and it was everything that he had thought it was, more than he had been told; he wanted to stay here forever, where it all felt so right, so good. With a last rush of pleasure, it was done though, and he lay back as she rolled over to lie next to him.
"Any guesses?" she murmured in the darkness, and Trunks smiled drowsily.
"Nope," he sighed back, his eyes seeking her in the dark, even though he couldn't see her. His hand, surprisingly heavy, moved on its own, sliding up her back.
"Do you need another clue?" she laughed, but it was a kind laugh, and he took no offense.
"No, I just need a nap. That was – Wow," he finished, shifting so that he was facing her.
"A nap? But you haven't guessed who I am, and you can't leave until you do!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arm and her leg over him.
"Really?" he asked, his voice mock-helpless. "That's not much of an inducement to guess correctly."
"Sorry," she murmured, leaning in to kiss him. He responded back, his sleepiness fading as his body responded to stimuli again. With a sigh, he ran his fingers up into her hair, past the crown hair into the downy—
Trunks froze for a heartbeat, his heart pounding. His hand felt once more to be sure.
He heard her take the voice modulator out. "Is that enough of a clue for you, Trunks?" she asked softly as she nuzzled his arm, her voice all too familiar now.
"Avia?" he squeaked, panic and nausea chasing pleasure away.
"Correct, Sky Eyes," she giggled, kissing him on the neck. "Took you long enough." He pushed away from her, fumbling for his clothes in the dark. "Trunks, what is wrong?"
"Avia, I can't—we shouldn't have--" his stomach twisted, and he swallowed painfully against his rising gore. His hand came down on the rim of a trash can, and he gave up, vomiting into the bin.
"Trunks, are you alright?" Avia's concerned voice carried to him; Trunks couldn't do more than shake his head, which she couldn't see in the dark. As if she had thought the same, the lights snapped on, and Trunks was forced to face the truth; his half-sister stood in the room, black eyes – contacts, of course – locked on him. "What is wrong?"
Trunks averted his gaze, grabbing at his suit and yanking it on. "I shouldn't have--" His bile rose again, and he stopped, forcing it back down. "I have to go."
"Wait," she said and grabbed his arm. "Come see me tomorrow when you feel better." She moved closer to him, a soft smile on her face. "I enjoyed this, and would like to meet again."
"We can't," Trunks said flatly, forcing all emotion out of his voice. "Never again."
She drew back from him, hurt eclipsing her face. "What? Why?" she hissed, her voice growing angry.
"I can't," he said with finality, pulling away from her and escaping into the hall. The pain flowing from her, almost tangible, was too much for him to stay near, and he needed space to clear his mind, to forget—
I slept with my sister.
His stomach churned again, and Trunks raced down the hall away from her, dashing into the restroom. He barely made into a stall to vomit again, the burning acid racing up his throat. Worse, the pain and the unpleasant surprise and everything hit him, and he felt uncontrollable tears stream down his face. "Mom, I need you," he sobbed as he sagged against a wall, shaking with pain and emotion. She would have known what to do, how to help him.
The bathroom door snapped open, and two Saiyan Guardsmen walked in, third classes from their rank. "What do we have here?" the first asked, grinning down at Trunks unpleasantly. Trunks hurriedly wiped his face, stifling further tears – it was never good to show weakness to a Saiyan.
"Are you crying for your mommy?" the other asked, and Trunks shook with rage. "Oh, watch out, he's about to blow!"
"Look at those eyes!" the first added. "So big and pretty, so delicate!"
"So familiar," the second finished, "like that slave woman we had fun with." Trunks' head snapped up, but neither man noticed. "Should we do him too, or wait for our buddy?"
"I ain't waiting; he took more than his share last time, and I'm not going to let him do that again," the first growled and grabbed at Trunks. "Come here, boy – I have an itch you're going to scratch."
Trunks didn't think – it was much like the fight with Dyl. He was just suddenly enraged, tired of being harassed, abused and used. All of his frustrations with Avia, his seething anger at all the inequalities and the re-wakened pain of his mother's death combined, and Trunks grabbed the golden light eagerly.
The first Guardsman grabbed the slave's arm, but a sudden explosion of power threw him backwards into his companion. He tried to see what had happened, but it was all light and fire, and the Guardsman was shocked to discover that he was afraid. He shielded his eyes with his hands, but all he could see was a form of golden power.
"My mother was worth more than you'll ever be," a powerful voice growled. "You should be more careful about whom you kill." Then the Guardsman's world shattered in a scream of fire.
Prince Vegeta leaned against the wall of the dining hall, trying to look as disinterested as his father was, but he didn't feel disinterested at all. In truth, he wished that he could be out on the floor, costumed like Avia and enjoying himself, but according to his father, it wasn't seemly for him to "cavort".
He sighed and adjusted his position slightly so that it wouldn't look like he was leaning against the wall, a practice that his father hated. "A real warrior doesn't need a wall to lean against, brat, he is what walls should lean on!" Prince Vegeta mimicked his father as best he could while speaking in an undertone. He didn't quite have his father's gravely voice, but he was sure that if he got old enough, he could learn to speak that way too.
One of the younger Saiyan nobles slid up to him, flouncing her breasts at him and batting her eyes. He gave her a smirk, not realizing that it was a carbon copy of his father's smirk. She seemed to take this as encouragement, and moved closer to him. Vegeta sighed without changing his expression. He wasn't in the mood for this – the fact that she was making it so easy took most of the fun out of it for him.
He tilted his head just right, causing the dim lights in the room to catch in his eyes, refracting like an animal's. She stopped, her smile fading, her eyes locked on his unnatural ones. His smirk deepened as dropped him a hasty bow and scuttled away into the crowd. It wasn't like she wanted him anyway and that knowledge removed his smirk completely. She wanted the prince, but she didn't want the Montessi prince.
He shrugged it off, not really needing a sexual release right now. And even if he did, it was frankly easier to find a willing servant or, if he were looking for something different, a slave. They were usually more concerned about him than about who he was, and were more fun in bed anyway.
Stifling another bored sigh, he pulled out his scouter and affixed it to his face. Checking to see if anyone had recently increased their power was more interesting than leaning against a wall and being bored. He increased its range to maximum – it was always fun to see "through walls" and spot someone across the palace using the scouter. Hey, maybe he'd find where Avia had gotten off to. He grinned as he wondered if she had finally caught that slave in whom she was so interested.
He panned the scanner idly across the room, giving it time to re-focus and re-measure occasionally. A sudden spike of in the numbers on the scouter caught his attention, and he focused in on that.
And realized that the impossible had occurred. The numbers were extraordinary; numbers like his father would throw out when he was the Legendary. But his father was sitting in the King's chair in the Dining Hall, watching the room with boredom. There was another Legendary?!
"No!" he hissed, his stomach clenching with desperation. "I was supposed to be the next Legendary!" He turned and dashed out of the Hall, using the scouter to hone in on the second Legendary.
He ducked down a side hall, the scouter's numbers still rising. These were numbers that his father could put out when he was enraged! He rounded a corner, and he didn't need the scouter anymore; he could hear the pulsing buzz of the Legendary's aura. The sound was coming from one of the restrooms, and Prince Vegeta pushed the door open without thinking.
The Legendary stood in the center of the room, his hand extended toward the far wall. A large section of wall was gone, and Vegeta could only gape at the power this being had. When it faced him, Vegeta had more reason to stare – it was the human slave who glowed with Vegeta-sei's most holy power!