A/N: Story of Cleopatra more or less but done Dragon Ball style. This story is going to be really long. It is set in Vegetasei. A lot of the characters personalities and their relationships are compromised to fit this story. Also this isn't entirely my story. I got my vision from this book, For Destiny or Desire

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z nor do I own Dragonball GT. I do not own the book For Destiny or Desire. This story will not be profited from it is simply for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others.

Chapter One.

What do you do when you see your father about to cut off your mother's head?

For a moment Bra could do nothing. She lay mesmerized on her dining chair, unable to believe that the menace was real. All around her a sudden hush was falling on the crowd of people gathered to celebrate the King's return from exile. Everyone held their breath and watched in mounting disbelief as the King staggered towards his wife, lying face down on the floor, and repeated his threat.

"Seize my throne, would you, bitch? Take my crown and my rightful rulership of Vegetasei? And then beg my pardon when the Siajins restore me to power? Pardon? Pardon? You'll get no pardon from me, you scheming little whore! I'll cut your head off your shoulders!"

Bulma uttered a low whimper and raised her head from the mosaic tiles, gazing wild-eyed and terrified at her husband as he lurched into the surrounding crowd. In the light of a hundred oil lamps his shadow flailed wildly across the carved cedar walls of the banqueting hall and his courtiers cowered shamelessly at his approach. When he was sober, Vegeta was an impressive figure. He was graceful, mild-mannered, even charming. When he was drunk that was another matter entirely. He had been known to impale a slave with his fist, spilling blood and guts all over the floor and remembering nothing in the morning. But surely he wouldn't harm his own wife?

"Hold her!" he bellowed, slamming his hand down on one of the three-legged tables and almost losing his balance as it tipped. "Are you all deaf? Hold her fucking down! Piccolo, see to it!"

Bra's throat went dry as she saw the massive, green eunuch smile blandly and heave himself to his feet. In a moment he would reach the row of Saiyan guardsmen who stood impassively along one wall of the room near her mother. Now with Piccolo holding Bulma, her father would be immeasurably dangerous. And yet nobody seemed to be doing anything, no one seemed to take action to restrain him. It was as if time had slowed down and was creeping forward as slowly so that Bra had time to notice a swarm of irrelevant details. The King's magnificent gold and purple robes, the suffocating scents of rose and cinnamon and myrrh that wafted from the tables, the lamplight gleaming off the double axes hanging crossed on the paneled wall, the hairs on the King's wrist glowing in the torchlight as he reached for an axe…

"NO!"

Bra was unconscious of any decision to speak, but heard the cry ripped from her own throat as she tumbled off the dining couch and ran to her mother. Her legs were shaking so badly that it was like trying to run underwater and the room blurred around her. Then her hands dug frenziedly into Bulma's armpits.

"Get up! Run! Save yourself" Bra screamed again.

She had heard cries like that before women in the final stages of childbirth. At first she thought it was Bulma and only when she felt the rawness of her own throat did she know it was her. Her mother was simply intent on escaping. Picking up her skirts, she was running full speed the centre of the banquet hall towards the huge bronze doors at the far end. And she was going to make it! Please, Kami, she was going to make it, if only those gawping fools would get out of her way!

"Think you can save yourself, do you?"

The King's voice rang out, rich, triumphant, gloating. How had he got there? How had he cut off her sister's retreat? In those precious moments while Bra was dragging Bulma to her feet, he must have crashed through the crowd and turned back to block her escape. Now he stood swinging the axe about his head with a maniacal light in his eyes and a smirk crossed his face. Bulma uttered a faint moan of terror and bolted back the way she came. Vegeta lurched after her, rotating the axe and laughing uproariously.

"Bra, save me! The door to the kitchen-"

Bulma stumbled into her arms like a scared child. Her skin felt clammy, her eyes were dilated and her heart was pounding so frantically her gold silk gown was pulsating with every beat. Suddenly Bra felt a rage so intense that it squelched all apprehension. Wouldn't anyone help her mother? Were two hundred people so obedient that none of them would lift a finger to save her from her drunken husband's tyranny? Wrapping her arms around her hysterical, teary-eyed mother, she turned to face the tyrant.

"You crazy, murderous bastard!" she yelled, "This is your wife, not a lowly servant that has done wrong. It is not her fault they made her ruler of Vegetasei when you were gone. The Siajin made her. What choice did she have?"

"Stay out of this, slut! Or you're next!"

Vegeta grabbed Bra's hair, and through her to the ground. The impact with the ground made dizzy and breathless. As she stood up, she saw the sight she feared most of all; Bulma kneeling before the King begging for mercy and the axe gleaming, whistling slicing through the air towards Bra's mother.

"NO!" cried Bra.

There was a terrible grinding thud as the blade struck skin and muscle and bone. Bulma's head shot through the air like a medicine ball and struck the floor. Blood came spurting forth from the severed neck. Bra screamed as the scarlet liquid sprayed across her. Her ears rang. Through the haze that engulfed she saw her crazed father running after her with his bloodied axe. She backed away. There was furniture and people blocking the way of her escape. Dread gripped her, her heart beat so wildly that she thought it would burst from her chest, her breath came in tiny gasps as her father advanced on her with that maniacal smirk still plastered on his face. Then he charged at her.

"NO!" she screamed again.

In that instant she tasted death. She expected the blade of the axe to slice her at any second. Her nerves clamored with the expectation of antagonizing pain. Instead she heard the crash of a dining table. She staggered breathlessly to her feet to find a miracle. Vegeta had slipped and was lying on his back in pool of broken glass.

"Catch her!" Vegeta screamed.

Bra bounded for the door as the Saiyans came at her like wolves. She could see the door closed but heard the slow creaking of the hinges.

A/N: OK so read and review and please refrain from flaming, constructive criticism is welcome though, and here is where I can clear up a few things. The Siajins (my own little thing I made up) Most of them are Saiyans but stronger than the King. Bulma is a Saiyan. Vegeta when inebriated is a little weaker and clumsy. Hope you like the story.