Her fingers had settled on her Swordsman piece when Grandfather Vegeta suddenly asked, "Are you interested in any male?"

Shock wiped her mind in a second, and Avia felt herself flush with anger as her strategy slipped away from her.  Damn it, he had done that on purpose!  She glanced up at the former King, expecting to see a glint of competitive malice in his eye, but there was only a mild curiosity.  She glanced down at the board again, confused.  Maybe he hadn't done it on purpose.

Remembering that he had asked her a question, Avia softly answered, "Yes, there is a male that I am interested in, but he is not in me."

Grandfather Vegeta looked at her with shock and stated, "Why would any male not be interested?  The daughter of a king, a Saiyan woman in her prime." 

Avia shrugged.  "He won't say," she said matter-of-factly, but she heard the emotion in her voice that said it did matter to her.  Trunks shifted quietly in the corner, and she fought not to look at him.

Something flickered in her opponent's eyes, and the shock faded to be replaced with irritation.  Grandfather Vegeta reached across the board and clasped her hand gently.  "If he is meant to be your bond-mate, it will happen," he said consolingly.

Avia stared at him, startled into silence.  Grandfather had always been a withdrawn, taciturn man; this sudden ability to sympathize was shocking.  And then the enormity of what he had said hit her.  Trunks, my bond-mate?, she thought to herself.  It was impossible and laughable, and she quickly dismissed the idea.  But on the heels of that dismissal came the unmistakable sense of loss.

Avia gave Grandfather a timid, slow smile.  She still wasn't sure that she could completely trust this near-stranger, but he seemed willing to try, and she, to her surprise, was willing to try too.

The game flew by, and though Avia lost, she still had enjoyed it very much.  Grandfather Vegeta was a tough opponent and just playing against him had taught her strategies that she never would have thought to use.  With a smile and a bow, she bid Grandfather Vegeta good-night.

Just as she was about to leave the room, a hand caught her by the arm, and she was spun into the shadows next to the door.  Her angry protest died on her lips when she met stormy blue eyes.  "What do you want?" she hissed, shooting a worried glance back into the room.

Trunks stared at her silently for a moment; then his arms snaked around her and pulled her close.  Surprised and far too pleased, she leaned into the embrace, enjoying it while she could.  "I would tell you if I could," Trunks whispered.

Angrily, Avia shoved away from him, noting that he only let her slide partly away; he still had a solid grip on her arms.  "That's really good to know, Trunks," she snarled, "without being remotely helpful."

"I'm doing what I can," Trunks sighed, looking more tired than frustrated.

"Except tell me what's actually going on," Avia shot back.  The grip on her arms tightened, and Avia hid her reaction to the strength in those hands.  Just who was this slave, that he could hold her with hands of stone?

"I can't!  God, Avia, how often am I going to have to say that?" Trunks hissed, his hands shaking her arms. 

"At least one more time, and probably more," she snapped, twisting her arms against his thumbs, trying to break lose of his grip.  But he held her fast, and with no apparent effort.

"Why can't you just accept what I say?" he growled.

"Would you accept it from me?  If I just said for no visible reason that I couldn't see you, after what we had?" she snarled, setting her feet and pulling against his arms.

Trunks released her suddenly, and she stepped back, rubbing her arms.  "I have much to do, my Lady," he said softly, his eyes downcast.  He slipped past her into Lord Vegeta's room, and closed the door in her face.

It hurt just as much as the door he closed on her heart.

The months rolled by with no change; Trunks and Avia were polite enough to one another, but there was always a tension between them – in the sparring arena, in private and just when they were in the same room.  It was a tension of unspoken words, of emotions bottled up without reprieve, of two people acutely aware of their loneliness. 

Prince Vegeta just rolled his eyes and waited for them to resolve it.  But as the three continued to move forward in their miniature conspiracy, events began to intrude upon them.

Queen Cyrane moved briskly down the hall, her steps almost a skip.  Her joyous gait matched her expression – she was nearly glowing with poorly suppressed delight.  The mountains, the mountains!, her heart sang, and she couldn't stop the whisper that escaped her, "Home."

She stepped into the fighting arena, pressing through the crowds of watchers to the front, her golden gaze sweeping the room.  To her surprise, there was no sign of either of her children.  A frown intruded, starting to disperse her happiness – where could they be?

She did spot a familiar face; with polite mumblings and gentle persistence, she pushed her way over to the tall hairless man leaning against the railing.  "Nappa," she said, not bothering to keep the bite out of her tone, "where are my children?"

Nappa winced at her tone as he straightened up and brushed his clothes clean of arena dirt.  "Your Highness," he said with no respect in the tone, "Prince Vegeta and Princess Avia have taken to training by themselves in one of the side arenas."

Cyrane felt her nostrils flare with irritation.  "And just how long have they been doing this?"

The giant of a Saiyan pretended to consider the question and then gloated, "About four months.  Did not the King tell you?"

"No, he did not," Cyrane said with forced indifference as she delivered her rebuttal, "but then if you had failed to be an adequate instructor, I can see that he might have tried to spare your pride."

"I did not fail," Nappa snarled, his face turning red.  "They decided to isolate themselves.  I advised against it, but King Vegeta felt that he would let them try it their way."

"Hmm," Cyrane grunted.  "Which room are they in?  I wish to speak with them."

Nappa smirked condescendingly at her as he answered, "But I'm afraid that I can't let you do that.  You know how the King feels about interruptions to training."  It was an old game with them; Nappa hid behind the King's authority and reminded just how much of an outsider she was in this place.  But he had made a mistake; today, Cyrane was not playing.

"Listen, you hairless son of a cyrpo," she snarled, calling her ki to her.  "I will speak to my children, and you will not stop me.  I am the Queen of all Saiyans, and you are little more than an elevated second-class!"

Nappa's fists clenched, but then his reason prevailed; he knew that she was stronger than he.  "They are in Arena 13, my Lady," he said sullenly.

"Queen," Cyrane snapped back.  "I am your Queen."

"Yes, my Queen," Nappa answered as he swallowed his pride and gave her a proper bow.

Without further acknowledgement to him, she swept out of the room, looking for Arena 13.  If she remembered right, it was the smallest one, a tiny bubble of a room with no observation railings or windows.  Why in the Empire would my children be training in there?

Trunks grinned insolently as two fists swung through the air just occupied by his chest.  The other two in the room weren't smiling at all as, together, they swung a kick at his legs.  But again, their intended target had moved.  It had been going like this for nearly an hour, with always the same result – Trunks was gloatingly smiling, and they were getting more frustrated.

But they got their opening when the door's latch popped up and Trunks dropped his ki and his guard, panic clear on his face.  A fist caught him on either cheek, and he collapsed, mostly out of reflex.

"Avia!  Vegeta!" Cyrane shouted in shock as she saw her children apparently assaulting one of the palace slaves.  "What in the name of All are you doing?"

"Mother!" Vegeta squeaked as he spun to face her, terror blooming across his features.

"We were--"Avia remembered then who was at her feet; not Trunks, the strange, too powerful person, but a palace slave.  She couldn't tell her mother who Vegeta and herself had been sparring against.

"It was a training game," Trunks said, his voice shaking and weak from fear.  How much had the Queen seen?  "They barely hit me."

"Are you alright?" Cyrane said, kneeling beside the slave.  Trunks kept ducking his head so that she wouldn't see that he wasn't injured.  But the Queen was persistent, and finally got a hand under his chin.  "You don't look badly hurt."  She helped him to his feet, which only embarrassed Trunks more.

"He told you, Mother, it was a training game," Vegeta said, trying to keep the sullenness out of his voice.

"We were practicing our control by not hitting him with any force," Avia added quickly.

Cyrane glared up at her children, her eyes flashing with rage.  "And what if you had not had control of your blows?  He is not a Saiyan; you could kill him with your foolish game!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, remembering all the times he had scraped his knuckles on that 'non-Saiyan's' skin.  He saw only a blur as his mother moved, and then he was lying on the sand, staring at the ceiling, his jaw aching.

Trunks took a step toward his younger brother, but Avia, thinking quicker than the demi-Saiyan, put a hand on his chest.  He glanced at her, and she shook her head gently.  She understood how he felt, but she knew her mother wouldn't seriously hurt Vegeta.  Cyrane missed the little scene behind her, her eyes focused on her son.

Prince Vegeta leapt to his feet, his face a mixture of surprised hurt and outrage.  "You struck me!" he hissed, disbelief clear in his voice.

"And you rolled your eyes at me like an insolent brat," Queen Cyrane replied coolly.  "Slaves are not to be treated as expendable, and if I ever see you treat one so inconsiderately again, I will do more than strike you!"

Prince Vegeta cut back his angry retort and dropped his head to stare at the ground.  He couldn't argue with his mother – not about Trunks.  Behind Cyrane, Avia stepped away from Trunks, ignoring her reluctance to stop touching him.

Queen Cyrane let the silence hang in the air for a moment to make sure that her children were done arguing with her before announcing, "I have some good news."

Vegeta glanced up at her, and Avia tilted her head inquisitively.  Cyrane was silent another moment to built the tension, then began.  She felt her face twitch into an involuntary smile as she said, "We're taking a trip to Torganga."

"Home?" Avia asked, her grin slowly widening as her mother's words hit her.  "We're going home!" she shrieked and threw her arms around Trunks.  He caught her, his face burning red as she bounced enthusiastically in his arms.  "I have to show you the Shout-back Cliffs, and the Burning Ice, and the fields of snowflowers!  Just wait, you'll love it there!  And then there's-"

Cyrane's eyebrows soared upwards as she watched her daughter promise to show a non-Saiyan slave everything, as if he were an old friend.  She glanced sideways at her son, who watching his sister with a frown.  The Queen flicked her hand at her son, catching his attention, and signaled him over to the side, leaving the two young people talking.  "Vegeta, what is going on with your sister?" Cyrane asked him softly when they were away from the couple.

Vegeta shrugged and said, "She likes him, but he's holding back for some reason."  Seeing his mother questioning look, he shrugged again and said, "I don't know.  I personally think he's doing what's right – he is a slave, and she an elite, but you know how Avia can be.

Cyrane frowned as she turned her attention back to the couple, realizing with a sinking dread that her son was wrong.  Avia held the young slave's attention completely, a little smile on his face.   But it was the look in his eyes that caused Cyrane's frown; she had once been looked at like that once, long ago.  That slave loved her daughter, and unless Cyrane was completely misreading her daughter, Avia more than returned the feelings.

All that effort to protect her from heartache, Cyrane thought, and she goes and creates worse for herself.

Author's Notes:

I have found the way to make sure that you get no reviews – ask for a certain type of review.  ;P  That's right, not a one since last chapter.  Oh, well!  That's life.  On a side note, my sister is getting married in another town Tuesday, so I'll be there from Monday to Wednesday.  There will probably not be another chapter until Friday because of her nuptials (a couple of days to get more written after I get back, basically). 

Thanks for your patience and understanding. 

PK