And as much as Trunks wanted to live by the philosophy of waiting as well, there was one question he needed Prince Vegeta to answer quickly. It was nearly time for the hunting party to leave, and Trunks wanted to know what was going on. It took two days of concerted effort to catch up the Prince – Vegeta had been exceedingly busy. Trunks would admit that there had been family reunions and parties all the time, but Vegeta was still far too busy based on what was actually going on, and the demi-Saiyan was starting to wonder if the Saiyan was avoiding him.

His confirmation came the day before the hunting party was to leave; Trunks saw Prince Vegeta coming up the corridor. Trunks waved his hand; he saw Vegeta's eyes flicker, and then Vegeta was darting down a side hall, away from him. With a burst of anger, Trunks realized that Vegeta was definitely avoiding him. "What's wrong, Prince?" Trunks threw at Prince Vegeta's back as the Saiyan walked away from him. "Hey, don't you run away from me! I have a question for you."

Vegeta whirled on him, ki igniting in his fists as he swung at Trunks. The demi-Saiyan dodged easily, slapping the Prince's hands away from his body. "How dare you address me that way!" Vegeta barked, ignoring the fact that Trunks had just knocked his hands away. "I am the heir of Vegeta-sai!"

"Bullshit," Trunks snapped before he could stop himself. "I don't know what your problem is, but you are way out of line, here."

"What my problem is?" Vegeta mimicked him, leaning forward to sneer better. "My problem is that you are a slave who thinks that he's hot stuff just because he can fight."

Trunks jerked back as if Vegeta had hit him; in truth, the verbal attack hurt just as much as a punch. "That didn't used to matter," he growled angrily, wondering what the hell had gotten into his half-brother. "Not when we were in the Capitol and I could teach you. Is that it? Was I a handy punching bag, but now that you've realized that you're never going to ascend to the Legendary, you won't have anything to do with me? I thought we were friends!"

Vegeta crossed his arms and half-turned his back to Trunks, fighting to hide his hurt. Trunks had hit home with the comment about never becoming the Legendary. "We were never friends, slave," he sniffed haughtily. "It was convenient for you to think so at the time. And now I'm through with you. You're dismissed from my presence. And I will become the Legendary, without your help!"

Trunks stared at his half-brother, wanting to do anything to get back to where they had been. But Vegeta's face was set in imperious, stubborn lines, and the slave turned away. Half-way through his turn, Trunks stopped and twisted back. "You know," he said softly, "Saiyans always think that others hate them because they're jealous. But in truth, Saiyans are hated because they're bastards and cruel to other races, and they treat their own people like shit! And someday, they're going to pay for that hatred when one of their 'subjugated races' rises up and destroys them. Given me, how do you know that it won't be humans?"

Vegeta turned back to the slave, his golden eyes glinting in the sun. "Are you done with speech-making?" he asked disparagingly.

"Yeah, and everything else about you too," Trunks muttered as he gave an elaborate bow and stalked away.

Vegeta watched him go, righteousness battling guilt clearly across his face. "There's nothing else to do," he finally muttered and walked away, determined to find his father and try to make it through this trip. He just had to wait long enough for Trunks to go back to Bardock, back to obscurity and slavery; then his hold on the crown would be assured.

It perhaps wasn't his fault that he couldn't guess what would really happen – after all, the Saiyan gods had never taught their children the lesson of Pandora and her box.

The hunting party, consisting of most of the Saiyan and Montessi nobles, left Torganga early on the third morning. Three generations of royalty flew with them, which many in the party took to be a peculiar omen. Among the second and third-class Montessi watching, all they saw was their prince, the one that shared their glowing eyes and dark skin, flying with the other nobles. Many saw this as a bad sign, for they knew what the King was truly hunting.

Only three nobles remained behind: Cyrane, Avia and Nappa. Cyrane and Avia watched the group fly deep into the mountains with hooded expressions – they also suspected what the King might be hunting. Nappa alternated his hungry glances between the sky and Avia. He had remained behind to serve as the traditional honor guard; largely a punishment duty, but it would be worth it if he could sway her to his side.

The women had made other plans – a visit to the Seer on the Blood-Rock was required for any Montessi returning home after a long trip abroad, and both women could use the visit. Though Avia was heartened by the fact that she would finally visit the Seer as an adult, she was sad that Trunks could not come, a fact that had been enforced emphatically by her mother. Added to the fact that Nappa was accompanying them, Avia's pleasure at the prospect of visiting the Blood-Rock was greatly diminished.

After the hunting party disappeared to the south, Cyrane took her daughter's hand and gently steered her up into the sky, heading east by southeast. Nappa gave them a respectful distance, and then followed. While he wouldn't be allowed to set foot on the Blood-Rock, he would be allowed to remain nearby, and that was good enough for him.

Trunks watched everyone leave as a sense of loneliness settling over him. The loneliness lifted once, when Avia glanced back at him and gave him a sad, subtle wave – they had said their real goodbyes this morning - then she was gone, and it came crashing back. Grandfather hadn't left any instructions, and none of the servants in the Montessi castle paid him any attention. With a sigh, Trunks decided to show himself around the palace.

It was a lovely structure, and it was a shame no one lived here. This had once been the seat of power for the Montessian people; now the palace was vacant most of the time. It had become a symbol of the subjugation of the Montessi. Maintained by a legion of servants, the hallowed Heart of the Montessi was only used at those rare occasions when the King of the united Saiyan Empire came for a visit. Considering that this was the first time Vegeta had been here in nearly twenty years, it seemed an awful waste to Trunks.

He had spent the better part of three hours exploring when he turned around a corner and nearly ran into Osper. "Oh, uh hi," Trunks said, giving the burly Saiyan a half-wave. "Everyone left this morning, you know."

"I know," Osper said evenly, "but I didn't come looking for them, I came looking for you."

"For me?" Trunks gasped, trying to look surprised rather than guilty.

"Sure," Osper said, moving steadily toward the slave, his measured pace meant to be intimidating, "because you know something you didn't tell me the other day, when we were talking about the bond-heir."

"Why would I know anything?" Trunks hedged.

"I don't know why you would know something, but you've been in the palace," Osper shrugged, "and you might have heard rumors."

"I really don't know anything," Trunks said, trying to throw out a disarming smile.

"You really don't lie too well, do you child?" Osper said with a chuckle. "Not lying is good practice, but when you can't lie… Well, let's just say that you've got it or you don't, and you don't."

"I don't know of any rumors regarding the bond-heir," Trunks said, frowning and backing up from the man. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"Why? Because of Avia and her love for her brother? Because of the fake princeling?" Osper grunted. "I love my niece, but she has a blind spot concerning her baby brother." Osper sighed and threw his arms out wearily. "If I thought the lad could defeat his father, I would throw support behind him – he seems like a good enough brat.

"But he can't take his father in a fight for the crown," Osper continued in a growl, "and it will be decades before he can, if ever. No, I'm sure only the bond-heir will be stronger; only he can take the crown."

"I can't help you," Trunks said, folding his hand together to hide their trembling.

"The King we have now is a petulant child," Osper growled, pressing his point. "He's a petty dictator – you've seen it! He could have made the difference in the crime regarding your mother – don't look so surprised, boy, I was curious about you. Shall I continue to list his offenses? He killed Avia's father so that he could steal her mother. He betrayed his bond-mate, and forced another woman to pose as his mate. And that is just what he's done to his family; the list goes on, and will keep going on, unless you help me stop him. Vegeta-sai needs a real ruler, one who won't be afraid to change things and make things better. Doesn't that appeal to you; that one slave could make the difference to a world?"

Trunks eyes snapped up to meet the Saiyan's, who nodded a fervent confirmation. "You could save the Saiyan race from the family that has ground them under their heel for centuries," Osper whispered. "Oblivion, the bond-heir, once King, would have the power to free the slaves, give them rights – and you could make that happen!"

"If I had one gift that I could give you Trunks," Bulma whispered into the child's ear as he hungrily watched the Saiyan children playing in the courtyard below, "I would give you your freedom. No parent should birth their child into slavery, and I'm sorry that I did that to you. I just wanted you to know that I would do anything, anything, if only I could see you free."

Bulma's words burned in Trunks' mind. "Do you swear that you'll support the freeing of the slaves?" Trunks hissed, afraid to take this chance and afraid not to.

"Boy, the Montessi don't keep slaves," Osper growled. "It's not honorable to enslave weaker beings."

"If you swear that you'll help free the slaves, and that you'll support the right of the bond-heir, I'll tell you who he is," Trunks said.

"Can you convince him to help us?" Osper gasped, excitement making his breath quicken.

Trunks laughed mirthlessly and said, "Oh, I already know that he'll help you."

"You do?" Osper said, confusion clear on his face. "How?"

"Because he was born a slave, his mother was killed because she was a slave, and he's tired of it," Trunks smiled grimly. "He wants to end it." And as doubt began to fill Osper's face, Trunks grasped the golden light and pulled it forth until it engulfed him. He had hidden it away so long, he had forgotten the sweet warmth of it and the power that danced at his call. It filled him, soaring out of his body, shaking the palace until it sang from the harmonics. He had forgotten the joy of it, and as he watched it shine like a brilliant sun on Osper's frightened face, he laughed.

And then he laughed more, though with bitterness, not joy, when he realized that he sounded exactly like his father.

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