King Vegeta wanted to laugh hysterically, but he bit back his laughter. For one, Nappa would not appreciate – or understand – the humor in the situation. And the last thing Vegeta wanted was for his closest advisor to wonder if he was mad. Although rare, kings had been deposed for similar in the past.
"Your Highness, did you hear me?" Nappa's tone was barely differential. Vegeta shot him a dark look of warning. Closest advisor or not, there were ways to speak to your King.
"I am listening to everything you say, Nappa," Vegeta growled. The man visibly calmed, choking his rage back. "You know as well as I do that if I started punishing every Saiyan who slept with a slave, I wouldn't have time to sleep with my own mate."
"But this is your own daughter, man!" Nappa snapped angrily.
King Vegeta rounded on his Captain of the Guard, slamming him to the floor with one strike. "Do not raise your voice to me, Nappa," he rumbled, "or I will raise your voice one octave – permanently. And don't presume to tell me what to do regarding my own daughter."
"Yes, Your Highness," Nappa had curled into a properly submissive posture, but Vegeta took no pleasure in the man's submission. It wasn't like Nappa was in his league anyway; his submission meant nothing. Looking at his vassal's hurt, angry face, King Vegeta did something he rarely did. He explained himself.
"Nappa, this isn't a case of rejecting your claims or your suite for my daughter," Vegeta sighed heavily as he grabbed a mug of warmed ale. "I cannot dictate her choices for her. Why I cannot do this is not for you to know, but trust that if I had my way in this, Princess Avia's choice in suitors would be very different."
"Yes, My Lord," Nappa said, still looking sullenly at the floor. Vegeta sighed, knowing that no matter what he said now, Nappa would sulk about it. So he didn't tell Nappa what he knew the Saiyan wanted to hear – that the matter would be resolved soon enough, and life would soon return to what it had been before the blue-eyed slave had been turned over to him.
"You may leave me," Vegeta grunted, and Nappa did as he was told. Vegeta drained his ale and crossed to stare out the window, glad for once that Cyrane was not here. He needed to be alone right now.
A bitter laugh escaped him, and he shook his head at the irony. "History repeats itself," he muttered. "Who would have expected this?" He moved to the bed and dropped heavily onto it, staring at the ceiling, which was painted sky blue. Did I really have it painted that color?, he wondered as he realized that it was the same blue as her eyes. If so, it hadn't been a conscious choice.
He rolled onto his side so that he wouldn't have to look at his ceiling and acknowledged what was bothering him most. He couldn't get away from her, from her memory. He had thought when she had died that he would be free, but he just felt empty, like someone had ripped a piece of him away.
His eyes drifted shut as he remembered the first day he had seen her. She had been working for the Head Scientist at the Palace. He had wandered through to see if his personal regen tank had been recalibrated. It hadn't been done, and he had started to complain when she told him to stuff it, she was working as fast as she could. He had been so shocked that anyone had said something like that to him, he had stood gaping at her as she completed the tank. When she had turned back to him with a triumphant grin on her face, he had seen her eyes.
"It has to be those damn blue eyes," he muttered softly. "The boy has them too. They're dangerous to the opposite sex." The thought of commissioning his Head Scientist to make a weapon based off of those eyes gave him a rare chuckle.
The door that adjoined his room and Cyrane's swung open, and Vegeta-sai's queen walked into the room. She cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised to see him sprawled across the bed like a teenager. She looked even more surprised when he didn't scowl at her for showing that surprise. "Are you well, my Lord Mate?" she asked as she turned to the bar.
"Is there still an emptiness in you?" he asked, surprising them both. She actually dropped the glass that she had picked up; her tail-fur flared as she spun to face him with a mixture of shock and fear in her face.
"What?" she gasped, her cold composure gone. "What did you ask me?"
"When Gyro died, there was an emptiness inside you. I know it was there," Vegeta cut her denial off before it left her mouth. "Has it ever gone away?" He ignored the fact that he had said her former mate's name – he himself had declared that the man had never existed, by royal edict. His name was forbidden to be spoken, but it was Vegeta's law and he could break it.
"No, my Lord Mate," she hissed, her golden eyes flashing with rage. Just like the first time he had seen her…
"Your Highness, I am a mated woman," the Montessi woman said to him, her bizarre golden eyes nearly glowing with indignation.
"I don't care," King Vegeta said flatly. "I want the strongest woman for my mate, and I have been all over this planet looking for her. You are the strongest I've found, and you will be my mate."
"I will not survive the death of my mate," she hissed, guessing his intentions well. "I can promise you that."
"Well," Vegeta said, taking a stab in the dark as he glanced over her shoulder at the child standing behind her, "then I shall just take your daughter, and when she is old enough, I will mate her." He leaned forward to emphasize his point. "And don't think that I won't do whatever it takes to assure that a bond takes place and holds."
"You cannot force a bond," the woman insisted, but her eyes were fearful.
"Oh, but who knows what the Legendary can do?" Vegeta replied casually, noting her silent struggle not to react to that statement. Instead, she took solace in anger.
"The loss of my husband or my daughter's future?" the woman growled. "What kind of man are you?"
"The one who knows what he wants, and won't accept anything other than what he wants," Vegeta had answered.
The fight with her mate had been brief. Gyro had been brave, Vegeta would give him that. He had found Vegeta later that day, after talking with his wife. There had been no exchange of words, just three sharp blows and then blood everywhere.
Cyrane had survived – the medic had done well, and the woman had been strong enough to live for her daughter's sake. But there had been the promise.
"She's dying," the medic said ominously, and the child gripping Cyrane's hand gave a soft gasp. Vegeta glanced at her; she was only three years old or so, but there was resolution mixed with the fear in her young face. "Your Highness, I told you that this may not work."
"Promise me," Cyrane wheezed.
The medic bent down next to her. "Promise you what?"
"Not you," Cyrane hissed. "Him." One finger flicked in King Vegeta's general location. "You will promise me that she is free to make her own choices." Her other hand gripped the child's tighter.
"Or what?" he growled in response. "You'll die anyway and make her serve in your place?"
"You have taken my mate from me," Cyrane growled, her voice stronger. "You will make this one concession."
Vegeta considered it for a moment before nodding his agreement. He didn't care who the woman's brat mated.
"Say it," Cyrane hissed.
"I promise. She'll make her own choices," King Vegeta swore solemnly. He looked at the child again, and Cyrane's golden eyes flashed in her small imperious face. He matched that haughty gaze with his own royal expression, but the child didn't look away. Instead, it took Cyrane tugging the child's hand to break the stare-down. Vegeta watched quietly as she whispered to the child, now his daughter.
Cyrane had lived, the attending medic had suggested later, because of his promise – it had given her the strength to continue.
King Vegeta watched that fateful day play out in his mate's eyes again. He had often wondered if he just should have taken the child and waited for her to grow up. But he had been so impatient, so eager to move past Bulma that he had ran roughshod over every obstacle in his way. He hadn't considered the cost to Cyrane until tonight, when he finally realized his own loss.
"Such things are never healed," Cyrane said her voice tired as if her anger had worn her out.
Vegeta sat up on the bed, facing her. "I am sorry that I did that to you," he admitted. She gave him a disbelieving glance. He shrugged. "I am regretful about what happened."
"Then answer me one question," she said, gathering her anger again. "Why did you not just acknowledge the woman you bonded with?"
"I couldn't acknowledge her," Vegeta answered, his voice tight with emotion.
"You are the King," Cyrane jeered, anger making her cruel. "You can do anything! You could acknowledge this woman!"
"Cyrane, she wasn't Saiyan," Vegeta said wearily, admitting to Cyrane the one thing he had never before. His supposed mate's name sounded strange from his mouth; he still wasn't used to addressing her personally, after years of barely acknowledging her.
Cyrane stared at him blankly. "But that isn't possible," she finally said, sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor facing his bed. Her tail curled around her arms, covering her hands as if they were cold.
"It happened," Vegeta replied softly, shifting slightly so that he could see her better. He shrugged lightly. "It made me realize what I took from you."
Cyrane nodded slightly, understanding in her eyes. Vegeta was pleased – she had never looked at him before with anything other than contempt or fear. When Bulma had been alive, that had been fine. Now…
Now, he wanted more. He wanted to give Vegeta-sai a true heir. It would take time to convince Cyrane to bond to him, but he was confident it would happen.
"Would you like to play some Chezzen?" Vegeta asked, rolling upright and moving over to his cabinet. The game was the one frivolous thing there, and was brand new – he had had it purchased for this trip, to help him connect with Cyrane; he knew she liked the game. She gave him a startled nod, and he began to set up the board, beginning two games – one board game, and one game for his mate's bond.