And the second chapter today is where the plot threads start to come together – all I'm saying is light at the end of the tunnel!
Laughing, Trunks dropped gracefully to the ground, looking back to see how far away Avia was. She was only seconds behind him, dropping next to him with an amused grimace. "I know you're stronger than me; why'd you have to be faster too?" she laughed.
Trunks grinned roguishly and smirked, "Well, I'm sure there's something you do better than me. You'll just have to find it."
"And when I do," she warned playfully, slipping into his arms. He bent his head to kiss her, and they spent several moments just enjoying the taste and feel of each other.
Finally, Trunks looked around at the small glade they stood in, taking in the small stream trickling merrily through the center and the graceful trees that shadowed the area. "This is pretty," he murmured. "Is this what you wanted to show me?"
"Part of it," she answered softly. She prepared herself to pull away from him, trying to hold a measure of strength for what was coming next. "The rest is over here."
Trunks fell into step next to her, an arm around her shoulders. This is what they had needed; the long peaceful walk through a tiny pocket of green in the black mountains. Somehow, the soaring black peaks that menacingly enclosed the valley only added to the delicate, green beauty here. Patches of weeds stuck up, and the place was obviously untended, but that couldn't destroy the charm of the place, especially when Trunks compared it to the desert he had lived with for all his life.
Avia steered him across the low stone and wood bridge to a set of stairs that climbed the mountain. Still silent, content to just walk together, the couple climbed the black-stone stairs holding hands. The steps ended on a plateau set into the side of the mountain, and Trunks blinked at the small house nestled between the mountain and the trees that rimmed the plateau. It was a smallish building, only a cottage – the remnants of some kind of wooden frame rotted in the yard, and a square of yard grew strangely, wild with weeds. After looking closely, Trunks realized that it was an old garden.
Avia stopped walking and stared at the building; Trunks, still holding her hand, halted and looked at her. Emotions ran across her face – sorrow, joy, pride and others in a swirling gambit that was too conflicted to be clear. Sensing that he shouldn't say anything, Trunks fell silent, merely giving her hand a squeeze.
After a moment, Avia said, "This was our house."
Trunks looked it over again, seeing it with a new eye. "Really?" he smiled. "You guys lived here?" He frowned, and added, "It looks like no one's been here for a while."
"Well," Avia replied, dropping his hand as she walked over to the wooden frame, "we left about fifteen years ago." She bent and pried a length of wood out of the earth, running her fingers over the moisture-darkened wood. With a sudden, bitter laugh, she added, "Who would mess with royal property, even to care for it?" She turned to stare at the overgrown garden, her eyes sad.
She seemed to want to be alone; so Trunks edged around the side of the house, curious to see what the other side looked like. Later, he would kick himself for not being more cautious, for as he stepped around the corner, there was a flash of light, and then he was lying on his back, gasping for air.
"What's this? An off-worlder?" a gruff voice snapped, and a wild-haired Montessi Saiyan in furs bent over Trunks, his near-white eyes eerie in his dark face. "What are you doing here, child?"
It was the 'child' that got him. With a snarl, he powered up, literally flying upright to hover before the surprised man. "Why do you Saiyans have to insult everyone?" he snarled as he punched the guy. This time, it was his turn to surprise – the Saiyan took the fist cleanly in the jaw and was tossed backwards into the tree line. But Trunks had no time to worry about him; another Saiyan had been around the corner, and now this woman was advancing on him, her pale green eyes flashing with anger. Trunks had just enough time to note that she bore a resemblance to Avia; then she was on him, punching and kicking.
"You're pretty good," Trunks noted after a couple of seconds of blocking and assessing her skill, "but not good enough." He switched effortlessly to an offensive stance smoothly as the long hours of practice paid off and hit her three times in rapid succession – chin, stomach, and knee. She dropped with an 'oomph' of pain, glaring up at him breathlessly.
"Trunks, who are you talking to?" Avia said as she came around the house. Stopping at the sight of Trunks standing over the woman, she gasped, "Cousin Spara?"
"Avia!" the woman choked out. "Watch out!" She pointed feebly at Trunks.
"Me?!" Trunks yelped indignantly. "Your friend was the one who started this!"
"And I'll finish it!" a shout came from the trees as the Saiyan dashed out. He stopped his charge at the sight of Avia and gave a loud whoop. "Avia conva Gyro!" he cried. "You've come home!" He jumped toward her, his arms open.
Trunks was suddenly in front of him, moving faster than even Avia had ever seen him move. Before the man could even react to his presence, Trunks' leg had swept him to the ground, and the slave was kneeling on his back, pinning him down.
"Trunks," Avia said calmly, "could you get off Uncle Osper? I know he attacked you first, but that's just his way of saying welcome."
Trunks flushed and scrambled off the man, extending a hand to help him up. Osper batted it away irritably and stood up himself, glancing quickly at Spara to make sure she was alright. She had already picked herself up, and was staring at Trunks with a speculative gleam in her eye.
"How have you been, Uncle?" Avia said as she hugged him happily, trying to dispel the discomfort radiating from all of them. Trunks took the opportunity to study the man – he was thick and broad with a weather-leathered face. Everything about him was big – his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his body, but he had a kind expression on his face when he looked at Avia.
"Fine, child, now that you're here," he grunted and stepped back so that Avia could hug Spara as well. "You look even better than the vids make you out to be." He eyed Trunks, who tried to give him a reassuring smile. When Avia moved back to Trunks' side, Osper raised his eyebrows but only said, "Where did you find the fighting flower here?"
"This is Trunks Briefs," Avia said as she slipped her hand around Trunks' arm. "He's my… a palace slave who came with us."
"A slave and he fights like that?" Osper grunted. "What, are they enslaving all aliens now?"
"I just happened to have a good teacher," Trunks answered hastily. "He taught me to maximize my potential."
Spara grunted, a noise surprisingly similar to her father's. "He should sell that maximization – if he can get a slave to that level, he could make me a Legendary."
"What are you boy, second-class?" Osper speculated.
"Uh, I don't know," Trunks stammered, flushing red.
"He's not been officially tested," Avia murmured, "but he's definitely a first-class, and probably elite as well."
Osper whistled through his teeth, exchanging an unreadable glance with his daughter. "Really," he rumbled, "that strong?"
"What does that mean?" Trunks asked, glancing from one dark face to another.
"It means, little flower, that were you a Saiyan, you'd be a noble," Spara answered. "How did you come to be a slave, with that power?"
"I was born to it," Trunks answered tightly. "My mother was a captured slave."
Osper shook his head angrily. "And because one person in your family was 'slave-level,'" he snarled, filling his words with scorn, "you weren't even tested. How blind the King's law is!"
"Don't forget, Father, that you do not have to be a slave to have your rights trampled under the heavy boots of those pale nobles," Spara hissed, clenching her fists.
"Right! Oh, Avia, that reminds me, I have somewhat to show you." Osper said, straightening up and taking Avia's arm. He led Avia to the front of the house, noting her trembling.
On this side of the plateau, the trees thinned and ended their protective perimeter, allowing a steep road to access the plateau. Here was the front of the house – unlike the cozy backside of the house it was not warm or welcoming, but sparse and imposing. The trees didn't hold back the wind, and it whistled fiercely over the flat, open area. Once, a gravel path had marched straight to the front door; now was broken up by the granite stone blocking the path. It had the somber feel of a marker; flowers, fresh and old, had been draped on and around the stone, looking as though they were an offering to something.
"Is this…? Did you bury him here?" Avia said, reaching out to touch one of the flowers on the stone. The crimson bloom closed at her touch, and she drew back her hand.
"Yes, this is the memorial to Gyro," Osper said softly. "He might have been decreed away, but the Montessi do not forget the injustice done to him or his family. Here, niece, your father's name has become a battle-cry, a scream of injustice against the tyrants that rule us from the desert."
"Your father!" Trunks choked out. "But I thought--" He stopped his sentence and just shook his head in confusion.
"You thought that pompous windbag who claims to be King of all Saiyans is my father?" Avia asked, laughing hollowly. "He just killed my father so that he could steal my mother to be his mate."
"And so that he could force a genetically impure heir on the empire," Spara added bitterly.
"No," Avia said, fear and anger in her voice, "there is nothing wrong with Vegeta."
"He's not the true bond-heir, and you know it, niece," Osper sighed. "The true bond-heir is missing."
"There is no bond-heir," Avia insisted, but her voice sound desperate even to her.
"If the King had a bond-mate, and we're sure he did, then there is certainly a bond-heir," Osper rejoined gently. "You sound as if you love your brother, but he doesn't deserve to lead the empire, for all that you might want him to."
And Akuma Ryuu – please don't ask me to email you anymore – I've tried twice and haven't heard back from you. 8 If you want to talk to me about fanfiction contests, please email me at Thanks! PK