Age 731
"You... you traitor!"
King Vegeta flinched at his Queen's words. "Eschalot, please, just hear me out..."
"Hear you out? My husband is a traitor to his own race! How... How could you do this to us?" Eschalot barked.
"I'm trying to save our race, Eschalot! I know it all may have seemed a little crazy before, but I know now that the Arcosians..."
"Here we go!" She hissed. "Yes, let's hear once more about how great King Cold is and how allowing him to annex our planet into his corrupt empire is what's best for the Saiyans!"
"It is best for the Saiyans!" The king yelled back. "If I had refused his offer, we would all be reduced to space dust!"
"So the king of our proud warrior race would rather coware and submit than die fighting for the freedom of his people?!"
"If it means ensuring that my heir has a kingdom to rule, then yes!"
There was a moment of silence between the two. Eschalot placed a hand on her stomach, trying her best to understand what her husband was saying, trying to make sense of the situation he had put them and their subjects in.
"Alright," She said, defeated. "I will...support your decision. For our son."
Age 746
"I don't need a mentor," The king glared down at his son. No matter how many times he had explained it, the prince still felt the need to repeat himself. "I'm perfectly capable of training on my own!"
King Vegeta's lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't need his heir throwing a tantrum like an infant.
"Vegeta, you were born with a gift, one that will grow stronger with age. You'll need special training in order to control it and your aunt has offered to help you do that. So please, try not to waste her time. If not for me, then at least do it for your mother."
Vegeta scoffed and looked away, knowing that arguing futher was futile. He mimicked his father and curled his tail around his slim waist. The King side-eyed him, but said nothing.
The hanger doors opened, allowing a pod to enter the pod and land in front of them. A young woman in purple spandex stepped out, her white tail wrapped around her waist. "It's good to see you my king. Sorry for making you wait so long." Vegeta opened his mouth to reply but refrained after catching his father's glare. The king smiled. "It's good to see you too Rota. You may rise." She stood slowly, wrapping her white tail around her waist.
Vegeta turned on his scouter, surprised to receive a reading of 8000 from her. She almost matched his father's strength.
"Thank you for coming. My son looks forward to training with you." Said the king. Rota leaned over to look Vegeta in the eye and smirked.
"The feelings mutual kid."
Age 756
Vegeta strode angrily through the hallway leading to the council chamber. His tail lashed like a whip behind him. The few people he passed in the hall quickly darted out of the way when they saw him coming, knowing it best to avoid his highness during one of his rampages.
It was a well-known fact throughout the palace that interrupting Vegeta during his training was taboo. The king had requested his presence for reasons he wouldn't disclose over the comm, forcing his heir to drop everything just to find out what was going on.
Reaching his destination, he ignored the soldiers posted on either side and shoved the heavy doors open.
His father leaned his back against his throne, shooting his son an icy stare for entering in such a way. Tarble stood to the left of their father, arms crossed behind his back looking drained from another all-nighter in the library. Standing around the room in two tiered rows were the elite. The King's court, granted favor by his majesty for their generations of loyalty, their extraordinary feats in combat, or pure luck at having been born with a power level at or above 400.
With all eyes on him, Vegeta regained his composure and took his place at his father's right hand, mirroring Tarbles stance.
"Fa-My King, might now be a good time to reveal why you've summoned me at such short notice?" The King nodded. "Indeed. Let him in."
The doors to the chamber swung open. Two guards escorted a young man in, his arms bound in ki based shackles, a look of awe on his face as he took in his new surroundings. He was a saiyan, yet he wore no traditional uniform or had a tail. He donned loosely worn clothing of orange and blue, a symbol of some kind resting on his chest.
At the bottom of the steps leading to the king, the guards forced him to kneel. When given permission, the guards stood, pulling the man up with them. "Tarble, who is he?"
Tarble slowly stepped forward, yawned, and pulled out a device. Pressing a button, a hologram of words popped up.
"...His name is Kakarot, your majesty. He was the son of squad leader Bardock and was sent to a planet 19 years ago as an infiltrator. Logs from that time stated that his pod got caught in a magnetic storm and his tracker was cut offline, making it impossible for our scientists to find out what planet he landed on or to even send someone out there to retrieve him. No one thought much of it at the time as it was common to lose infiltrators. However, yesturday, it was discovered that the tracker had been turned back on. Before anyone could even figure out where the pod was coming from, it had already descended into our orbit and landed in the outskirts of our boarders. That's where we found him."
Vegeta glanced at the young saiyan. He was a spitting image of his father, the only difference being his eyes. His large, aloof eyes.
The King leaned back, resting his head against his knuckles. "Tell me Kakarot-"
"Goku"
"Pardon?"
"It's Goku, your majesty. It was the name given to me on Earth."
"And that's the name of the planet you landed on?"
"It is."
"Well then, Goku, how was it that you were able to fix your pod, let alone traverse the stars back to this Planet?"
Goku smiled. "I owe that to my friend Bulma. She's super smart! It only took her a few days to fix my pod and put it on autopilot."
"Then why did it take so long for you to return?"
"Well…" Goku laughed nervously. "...it's kinda a long story..." Eyeing his sons, then the court, the King leaned back against his throne and waved his hand. "Proceed"