The throne room was colder than usual, though not for a lack of heating. The young prince stood beside his father's throne as the king conferred with his generals. Even Nappa, young Vegeta's personal bodyguard and lackey, was involved. Though the prince did his best to seem bored, he was listening to every word. "He's a menace, sire!" The general who said this was one the young Saiyan cared little for. Nappa had once told the prince that among Saiyans this general possessed the unique trait of cowardice. Always the last to arrive on the battlefield, and only when victory had already been secured.

"Think of what an asset he would be! Already stronger than any other Saiyan, with the right training and care he might even be able to put fear in the heart of Frieza himself!" Another general, tall and broad, with shaggy hair and so many scars covering his body it made his skin look like motley. Vegeta never bothered learning any of their names, not wishing to grow too fond of any of them, should they get troublesome. Still, the prince approved of this one's audacity. A keeper, he decided.

The generals all spoke up now, each intent on convincing the king that only their vision was wisdom, like so many waves crashing against a rock. The king had closed his eyes, which his son recognized to be a trick to be able to better hear each general speak, even if they did all speak at once. The young prince knew which path the king would choose. Always, the king had wanted to relieve himself and his people from Frieza's yoke. Sure, whenever an emissary or even the emperor himself would appear, the king would say the words he'd learned to say, bow the way he'd been taught to bow, but his eyes told a different story. If there was a way for the king to rid himself of Frieza, he would definitely take it and all these old men who trembled at the sight of someone like Broly would be silenced. Did they really believe that it would be him and not the prince that would ultimately be the strongest? Vegeta made a mental note of each face. Cowards tend to live long and if any would survive long enough to witness the prince's own ascension, Vegeta's first act as the new king would be to decorate his throne with their cowardly heads.

The king cleared his throat.

"Generals, I've heard your counsel. Some would see me turn Broly into our champion, someone to be held in the same regard as the legendary Super Saiyan. Others would rather have me rid us of him, before he gets too powerful… Or too ambitious…" The king's eyes met his son's for only the briefest of moments.

"And some would prefer to have Broly dispose Frieza for us." The king stared at the tall general, who returned the gaze with a grin. The king, too, grinned, as he became a blur. Suddenly he launched forward and thrust his hand straight through the general's armor and chest, only to burst out through the general's back. With incomprehension the general spent his last moments staring at the king, sluggishly trying to reach out and grab the king's arm, before collapsing. The king let the limp body slide off his arm and spat on the corpse, his white glove still dripping blood.

"Let that be a lesson. If anyone will free us from Frieza's tyranny, it will be a king!" He turned, again his gaze met with the prince's.

One of the generals, desperate to break the silence, spoke up. "Sire, what of Broly?"

The king turned around. "He makes for a good sparring partner for my son. Thanks to their fights, my son's power has increased dramatically. You all seem ready to name Broly our strongest warrior, but I for one am eager to see how much stronger my son can get. As my heir, one day he will be our race's champion." The young prince smirked despite himself.

"Still… I would rather not have our 'champion' get any ideas… The boy's father… Paragus. Find him, bring him here. I have a mission in mind for young Broly and it'll be good to have some leverage. You're all dismissed."

As the generals left the throne room, ignoring their fallen comrade, the prince approached his father.

"What mission do you have for him, father? I will join him." The king glanced at his son.
"No, this is something I will ask only Broly to do."

The prince clenched his fists. As much as he disliked it, Vegeta had accepted that he was currently weaker than Broly. In the prince's mind this was only a temporary inferiority, the same way a child may outgrow an adult with age. To have the king say this, though, was a slap in the face. It was tantamount to calling him weak. "Father! Whatever mission you have in mind for him, I can do just as well! I'm a prince, not some low-ranking trash!"

The king shook his head. "No, son. It is because you are the prince that I cannot give this mission to you. Though I killed him, general Cauli had a point. Broly is a valuable piece in our revolution and it Is because of his unique strength that only he is suited for this mission. Broly's mission shall be to assassinate the leader of the Ginyu force, or die trying."

Vegeta woke up, the warm glow of the morning sun heating his exposed torso. Slowly, his senses returned to him from their absence in his dream. He wasn't a child anymore, he wasn't on Vegeta. He was lying in bed and the sun had come up. His fingers groped for the covers but couldn't find any. Annoyed by the rays' warm touch, he rolled off the bed and stood up. He looked at the clock and saw he had been asleep for a long time, even by his standards. It was strange how he didn't feel rested at all. The dreams he had about Broly had been getting more and more real. Why now, though? Was it the appearance of his son that reminded him? The worldless prince stretched, cracking his spine and neck with a satisfied groan. As he headed for the bathroom to take a shower, he casually glanced out the window.

Clad in the familiar orange and blue, Goku was waiting for him.