A/N: I bet you all thought I was gone again, but I actually was looking to potentially rework previous chapters and I finally got this out! Thanks to kyrarihanna, Hikariko93, lmamc, Flaming Beauty (I'm glad you liked that line, I enjoyed writing it ;) and Vegeta has other nefarious plans at the moment! That and being a King and morbidly hanging out with our girl's body), AnneBrief7, Carol (your hopes for Vegeta may be realized, he may not be the quickest on the uptake, but I'd say once he understands something, he understands it well), Julyza (there will be some resemblance to it, but having Trunks there and as the main player is definitely going to transform it), Kitty in the Box (I wish the update HAD been sooner! But I have a feeling the next one will come faster. I've been looking at this story of mine a lot. Trunks emotional state is crucial to the story, so I'm glad you're picking up on it), QueenBulla (like the name lol. My Vegeta is pretty single-minded, take that as you will!), Kias (yup…), SaraDanny (glad you don't mind! And Trunks reuniting with the Earthlings is coming up!) NNP (It's so cool when people say they stayed up to read this, so thank you so much! Many possibilities is right…), ComplexDream (LOVE hearing that! And I hope you enjoy this next installment!)

Little Monkey Prince

The Saiyans knew only two things for sure: the previous king was dead, and Prince Vegeta was now King Vegeta.

The rest? Was shrouded in a mystery, and Saiyans didn't do mysteries. A worthless waste of thought.

Power spoke more loudly than any other single asset, and Prince Vegeta had surpassed his father long ago. His ascension to the throne was popular on a most basic level. Their once-vagabond prince was on Vegeta-sei for good and he was the most powerful Saiyan alive. What about that was complicated? Nothing.

There was some talk about Prince Vegeta's female alien, the one with the exotic coloring he had kept for years, and the palace guards joked about when they were far away from the Prince's ears, the one certain lords asserted had him by the balls, again only far away from the hearing of the Prince. They said she had been murdered and the Prince flew into a rage and killed everyone, including the bastard half-breed she gave him. Some said the brat had been banished—that both of the Prince's sons would be banished.

A few even said that history would repeat itself, and someday perhaps that a wandering Prince would return, more powerful than imaginable, and take the throne in the usual way.

There was an enormous surge of power that night that most Saiyans felt—a power even more suffocating than Frieza. That had created some real talk.

But anyone who could have witnessed such a thing was dead by the Prince's supposed rage, or sent on a mission by the next morning. And since there were no witnesses to fuel what could have been the truth, only stories with no basis in it spread.

Likely it had been the new King Vegeta in a fluke moment of power-up during the showdown with his dead father. Perhaps it had been an explosion in the lab that the former prince had taken such a bizarre curiosity in. Perhaps (though impossible), it had been one of Vegeta's sons, and the father had snuffed it out before the brat could present a real challenge. That one was the least likely, since they all knew well how their monarch loved a challenge and would relish the opportunity to prove his worth against any Saiyan. Perhaps it was a collective hallucination, and they hadn't felt it at all.

Saiyans weren't much for wondering anyway. Prince Vegeta was now King Vegeta. And with Frieza's visit looming like death, the whispers died away to more important things.

VBVBVBVBVB

In the darkest confines of his mind, Vegeta had to admit that the timing of all this worked better than he could have ever planned. It had only been days.

Days since his half-breed brat had achieved the status of Legendary Warrior and abandoned his home planet on a wish.

Days since Bulma, his woman and the mother of his child, was slain by his clone.

Days since the brutal beating of Bulma's murderer, who was just a mere child, awaiting a torture worthy of the Cold Empire.

Days since Vegeta had become King of All Saiyans.

Earlier that morning, he had received ahead notice of a fleet of visiting ships. And now, Vegeta awaited the arrival of Frieza's ship—not in the landing bay, as would befit a vassal of the Cold Empire, but on the throne, as befitted a king.

Vegeta had thought about nothing else but this meeting for the long, sleepless nights that followed Trunks' departure. One wrong move, and the whole house could collapse. And he wouldn't allow for the whole house to collapse.

He had quickly and methodically removed and dispatched anyone who was at the palace that night, anyone who could have spoken with any authority about what had really happened, save the little murderer himself. And now that was to be reconciled as well.

There was a trail of metallic-sounding steps, the swish of a heavy tail, and Vegeta lifted his head to see Frieza at the end of the long, red carpet, mouth twisted in amusement.

"The little monkey prince-turned-king," he said, as Vegeta descended from the throne to meet him. There was a delicate amount of arrogance that was required here. Vegeta wouldn't stoop and cringe—that would be far too suspicious. But neither would he pay Frieza such disrespect as to have the emperor come to him. Cruel, violet eyes took him in with a sadistic thirst that Vegeta remembered from very few encounters, but had always hated. It set his teeth on edge.

"My, my, how you've grown," he tutted. "To think that had I known, I would have kept you so much closer!"

A remark about Tarble lodged in Vegeta's throat unwillingly. To bring up the subject himself could enter into dangerous territory, an uncharted place that could ruin a careful objective. By now, Vegeta imagined that Frieza was well-aware that the more powerful brother was standing before him alive, and perhaps the previous king had meant deception in ever pretending otherwise. And if Frieza hadn't come to such a conclusion, Vegeta was not going to lead him there.

"In all my travels, I never failed to do what was assigned me." Vegeta merely said.

"And now I suppose I can't send you out any longer," Frieza said, his sparse lips tightening into a pout, as if a treasured toy of his had been broken. "I may be a demanding master, Vegeta, but even I understand where one's duty may lie. The Saiyans are my subjects as much as yours, and I could hardly deny them their newly esteemed leader." His snowy scalp tilted slightly. "Though… I am curious…"

Vegeta waited, knowing that Frieza's pauses were often for dramatic effect rather than a need to be prompted.

"Why choose now to become king? Your father always insisted that you adored that freedom of yours… would seem counterproductive to take on such responsibility."

Had the words come out of the mouth of any other being, they might have been said breezily, carelessly. But Frieza was the terror of the universe, and no one could ever mistake him for such a thing…

This was a test. The thought of Tarble was still ringing like a distant, continuous alarm in Vegeta's mind. However, Vegeta had prepared his answer to every question far ahead of time, and he had expected this.

"My father was weak." He fairly spit out the word and Frieza's black tongue peaked out hungrily. "It did the Saiyans nor the universe any good with him at the head. I've learned much from my travels. Much from my missions for your empire… I saw a problem and I'm taking care of it."

A mocking, wheezing giggle erupted from the Ice-jin, but his eyes gleamed. "A rousing speech! Come." Tight, sharp fingers wrapped around Vegeta's shoulder and he willed himself not to so much as shrug them off. This game would be long, but Frieza had ever been susceptible to even the implication of flattery when uttered by a proud Saiyan like Vegeta. "We have much to discuss about you and the rest of the monkey race. Plans to make together."

Vegeta hardly believed that Frieza would do much more than make demands that would be followed, but had no choice other than complete obedience. For now.

There would many things that the new king was to grit his teeth and bear. More Saiyans wasting more planets, things being as they were… there would be no way for Vegeta-sei to command any sort of defense were they attacked. Because that was how the Ice-jin liked their serfs: defenseless. Frieza smirked horribly throughout, knowing of course, that Vegeta agreed with none of it, but would be forced to comply… just as his father was, just as everyone else who lived in Frieza's universe did.

"Finally, Vegeta, I have a final thing to settle in honor of our new relationship." Frieza folded long, white fingers over the table as he watched Vegeta's expression carefully. "When your father reigned, he offered me your younger brother as a show of… good-will and respect. He was to be trained up by me and raised as a… companion of sorts."

Hostage would have been the truer designation. Vegeta felt his heart begin to beat more firmly as they now edged into the subject that had been on his mind since Bulma's death, the darkness that had spread and spread to eat up all other intentions. Strangely, with every beat, he heard the name of Bulma's son. Trunks. Trunks. Trunks. Trunks.

Vegeta blinked, his eyes following the twitch of Frieza's fingers.

"I have it that you have made your own little monkeys…" It wasn't a question and Vegeta's mouth dried as he held out for the next words, ignoring the repeated slur against his race that Frieza so delighted in. "Am I correct?"

"My father made a son for me in the usual way of our race," Vegeta offered, doing his best to sound tentative—to make Frieza think that Vegeta wanted to keep something away from him.

"Yes," Frieza hissed, and then his voice dropped lower. "But I heard something else as well…"

Vegeta crinkled his brow just the slightest bit, but said nothing. Frieza was watching him avidly for any sign of falter, and Vegeta would not give it to him.

"I heard that you had also gone the… unusual way, if you will…" Frieza's lips curled up further than they had thus far. "I heard you brought some little slave back here to rape and you got some little simian on her. True?"

Vegeta smirked right back at Frieza. He hadn't been certain that Frieza had known about it, but he had to expect that he would. "Yes, that was true."

"Was?"

"They're dead."

"Oh? And how?" From the way Frieza's voice went up in question, he hadn't heard this, it seemed.

"My heir… he sometimes lacks control." Vegeta spoke carefully, allowing Frieza to hear and hang on every single word. "He killed my bed slave. And I beat him for it."

"As I would," Frieza said agreeably. A slave was expendable, but who had the authority to take the property of prince or king? Such a thing would set a worrying precedent if it was not punished. "And what of that lamentable result of your affair?"

"I killed the half-breed," Vegeta said pitilessly. "It was something, against my better judgement, I had allowed its mother to keep. She was of a… sentimental race. Weak. With her dead, I saw no reason to let it live."

"Male or female?"

"It was a male, and the more useless to me. Its low battle power was a stain on my lineage." The more he spoke, the easier this somehow became to tell… the lies tripping faster away. Vegeta resolutely kept a steady pace, refusing to arouse suspicion.

Frieza clicked his tongue. "Well, this is an unfortunate business, I suppose. You see, with two little monkeys, I could have left you with one. Had you not acted so rashly…" He let the last bit hang there, as if he would have allowed Vegeta to keep his heir and taken the product of a slave who had been declared of no use, as if it was Vegeta's fault that another Saiyan child must be sacrificed for this. Vegeta nearly tasted the win.

"My lord, I don't see that my heir would be worthy of your attention," he said. "He may be powerful for a Saiyan, but not for one such as you—"

Vegeta had hardly gotten the last syllable out of his mouth when he was wrenched violently from his seat by Frieza's thick, iron tail and slammed to the ground. With a groan, he felt at least three bones snap and clenched his eyes shut as blood seeped from the corners of his lips.

He's so strong, so damnably powerful. In the haze, Vegeta was lost in the pain and remembered dimly the golden light of Trunks, relaxing into the agony.

Frieza's tongue slithered somewhere near the Saiyan King's ear. "Do not presume to tell me what I need, monkey." He released Vegeta with a flick and he hurtled into the wall with a sharp crack. "Where is your heir?"

Vegeta coughed wetly, keeping his eyes to the red splatters on the floor. "Regeneration Tank..."

"Normally, I would allow you to say goodbye before you parted, but I really am in a rush, Vegeta." Frieza sighed as he stood over the Saiyan's crumpled form. "It's so difficult sometimes to bear the responsibility of so many planets! But see, there's some hope for you. A measly monkey can hope to handle one planet, I think, if I can do so much more. I will even personally escort the boy and his tank to my ship. You'll find that I am a most solicitous to my wards. It's a wonder why your father chose little Tarble for the honor …over you." He paused to allow the proverbial knife to settle, and then behaved as if a thought had occurred to him. "Oh, what is the boy's name?"

"Vegeta," the felled Saiyan King grunted. The question couldn't have been more perfect. Frieza trilled a ticklish, dysphonic laugh.

"It will be like another time, another monkey prince! I will see you soon, Vegeta. Do try to keep things efficient for me while I'm gone. Perhaps I will even keep you apprised of your heir's progress." Frieza was already at the door when Vegeta watched his clawed feet turn once more. "And don't worry, I will forgive you for not seeing me off just this once, given your condition."

Vegeta was left alone in the private audience chambers with a mouth full of blood, teeth gleaming red, but a perverse sense of triumph filling his veins. Tarble had had no sins to pay for under Frieza's indomitable fist.

That hated clone, though… he would deserve every inch of what he received.

Saiyans hurriedly parted the way as Frieza and a few attendants marched through the halls to the Infirmary.

The little beast—the Saiyan King in miniature—was floating in regeneration fluid, still looking a bit bruised, but certainly the resemblance was unmistakable. Frieza giggled and swiveled his head to his servants. "Take it to the ship, monkey and all. We'll have our introductions later." They moved immediately to do as their emperor commanded and no Saiyan was bound to intervene. Even had Vegeta wanted to countermand the order, in the face of Frieza, he would have no power to do so. And as they began shifting the tank, Frieza stroked the glass over the ugly, Saiyan face.

"We will have such fun, little monkey. Much more than the last time."

VBVBVBVBVBVBVB

It had only occurred to Trunks to ask his grandfather about him and Goku using Earth's dragonballs to revive Bulma when he was already on his journey. But he should have known that such a simple solution would be no option: Goku and friends had already used the Dragonballs a couple months ago and wouldn't be active again for a little less than a year.

There was some dumb story attached to the explanation, but Trunks had tuned it out, lost in his own thoughts. It took some good news to finally bring him out of them.

"Trunks? Gohan and I are coming and we'll all bring your mom back together."

A tidal wave of relief that Trunks hadn't known he needed swept over him. He blinked into the screen, Goku's determined face shimmering in it.

"If Dr. Briefs has a ship that can get us there, we'll be there."

"Oh I do, my boy!" Crackled an enthusiastic voice in the background. It was strange, Trunks thought… he had told his grandparents about the death of their daughter, expecting a total breakdown, but instead, his grandfather seemed…excited? to be a part of the adventure. He had no doubt that Bulma would be resurrected.

It was a confidence that Trunks wished he had. The only confidence that Trunks could claim at the moment was that he would get his mother back, or he would die trying. That he could promise. But the happy-go-lucky cheer just didn't fit him, so there was no point in pretending.

"I haven't found the time to implement a communication device in that ship, or come up with a way to do it," he heard his grandfather admit. "But it'll get you there."

Goku grinned. "But see, it's a good thing that Trunks' ship has one. Your mom is really something, you know!"

"Was really something," Trunks corrected him dully. As fast as that relief had come, he settled back into the irritation that nettled him in the face of everyone else's optimism. It was hard to ignore the mess his life had spiraled into in the past few days, like no one else had even noticed. And worse, it scared him that their feelings might rub off on him, that hope and certainty of better times coming. Because if they couldn't bring Bulma back, he had no idea what he would do. Cold sweat blossomed alarmingly on his skin and he suddenly felt quite sick.

"Look, I gotta go," he stumbled over his words in his hurry. "Lemme know when you're about to leave, and I'll send the coordinates again."

If Goku or his grandfather replied in any way, Trunks had already broken the connection. His fingers trembled as he snapped the system off and careened down the narrow corridor to the bathroom, his stomach heaving and emptying itself as soon almost before he reached the toilet. It concaved into his ribs again and again for what felt like forever, until there was nothing left to vomit and he sank mercifully against the edge, breathing pitifully.

As he gulped air and the chill dampened on his skin, he was assaulted by the thought of his mom. She would comfort him if she saw him now. She was the only person in the universe who would be there for him when he was like he was right now. Moms took care of the sick kids. And Geta had taken her away, and he was still alive! Trunks hadn't avenged her at all.

He let out a strangled cry of impotent rage and clenched his fists as the tears sprang to his eyes. He wanted his mom back. Something powerful was rising in him again, but only the thought of his mom, telling him that her ship couldn't handle a power-up like that and telling him he'd better calm down, kept him white-knuckled on his control.

Nappa's ki was still resolutely flaring in the control room, and Trunks was sure that he had sensed the tantrum that the young half-Saiyan was throwing, and had decided to ignore it. The uncharitable part of Trunks wanted to believe that it was because his father's race was full of monsters that didn't feel and it was disgusting to them. But the part of himself that he had in common with Nappa and Vegeta understood it to be something else: Trunks needed to straighten himself out from his own weakness and Nappa was allowing him to do it without the humiliation of witnesses. Trunks didn't want anyone to see him like this. Not even his mom.

The feeling of being grateful was such a tiny speck in the sea of everything else. But at least it was a speck…

"When I bring you back," he thought, "nothing is going to ruin it. You'll just be proud of me. Because I'll finally be strong enough to keep you safe."

VBVBVBVBVBVB

"He's… changed," Goku said in confusion, staring at the black screen where Trunks had winked away. He didn't understand much of anything besides fighting, so these conclusions carried no deep thought.

But Goku wasn't blind. He saw the sharp, haunted lines of the ten-year old's face. The seriousness and anger that reminded Goku of the boy's father, Vegeta. Remembering the happy, blustering little kid that once bounced from one end of Capsule Corp to the other, it was a jarring difference.

Dr. Briefs sighed, knowing the addled Saiyan's struggle to grasp the concept of loss and torment. "The boy's lost his mother, Goku. And hearing the little of the story that he shared, I think he feels guilty that he didn't prevent it."

"But he couldn't have done anything," Goku said sensibly. "If he could have, I know it wouldn't have happened. And he'll make it right again with the Dragonballs! We all will."

"Sometimes knowing things isn't enough to keep you from feeling them," Dr. Briefs sagely offered. His brow furrowed. "And… I had another thought. My dear grandson has spent just as much time on his father's planet as on his mother's by this point. We don't really know how that's affected his development. But I'm sure it has, given everything." The older man's lavender mustache ruffled. "However, we can't worry about what can't be helped. Instead, we're going to bring that daughter of mine back to life. If anything can help young Trunks, that will be the medicine!"

Goku pumped his fist and chuckled. "Yeah! I've been waiting for a new adventure!"

"You can start your adventure by explaining to Chi-Chi that you're taking young Gohan into space?" Dr. Briefs said mildly, but his eyes twinkled like he knew something. And Goku wilted slightly and rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepishness that would always be inordinate to his form, yet somehow natural.

VBVBVBVBVBVB

Though he was visibly injured, Vegeta refused the Infimary for the moment, striding by the watchful eyes of his Guard. Tomorrow, he would meet with the lords and tell them how things were going to be. In lieu of that, he retreated to the Gravity Chamber. There was a ludicrous amount of comfort in both training and in feeling her there in a way that didn't involve keeping company with what was, for now, a corpse of the woman she had been.

He didn't even care about the beating he took at Frieza's tail. The clone was gone; sent off with enough of the truth that if Frieza were to ask, most of what could be said would likely raise no suspicion. The clone hadn't been conscious for the aftermath of his actions. For all he knew, Vegeta had killed Trunks. And if the clone insisted otherwise, he had no proof of it.

Besides, Vegeta thought with a murderous sneer, the clone would likely have other things to worry about.

Had Bulma been there, would she have approved?

She wouldn't have, though Vegeta never asked the question, because Bulma could no longer serve as any sort of reminder to his humanity. And so Vegeta roiled in thoughts of revenge and fury and death without pause while he physically pushed himself to the edge.

After some hours, the King abandoned his punishing exercise and made his way to the Science Department, blood still wet on his face after many sweaty hours, stinging open wounds. It was a frightening sight for the slaves that were focusing on their assignments, especially since Vegeta typically had only entered this space to see one person—a person that certainly wasn't there and was even rumored to be dead. This was a blow to them all and Vegeta sensed a sort of melancholy in the air even with all of the fear in his presence.

"I'm looking for the one that calls himself 'Colloid'," Vegeta said. His arms were crossed as he commanded their attention. And then a minion hesitantly edged forward, raising one arm slightly.

"That would be me, Your Majesty."

The King looked black eyes up at the tall, skinny slave and he trembled. This had been Bulma's "friend" then, he wasn't much to look at. "You?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Come with me."

Colloid felt faint with fright as Vegeta led him to Bulma's personal laboratory. He had heard that something had happened to her and he had witnessed enough of her volatile relationship with the Saiyan royalty to be worried that whatever happened next would turn out terribly for him. More than that, he grieved the loss of her as both a brilliant mind and a friend. He briefly wondered if this Saiyan commanding him grieved her too.

They were now away from any other prying ears and the King glared at him severely. "The Woman is gone. And you will be resuming your duties as Head of this department."

Whatever gone meant, Loid gulped and made no eye contact. "Of course, Your Majesty."

He wanted to ask about Bulma's son, but there was no possible way he could dare.

"I know she had a project of particular interest to me… a ki-draining device."

That was something that Bulma had been working furiously with, but spoken very little about. However, those types of things were always her most astounding and interesting works and so Loid always absorbed whatever scraps of information she shared and waited for the day she would burst out a declaration of victory over it. That day had not managed to come, but Loid knew where she kept her progress on it…

"I do remember that she mentioned something, Your Majesty…"

The King leaned in toward him and he got a strong whiff of the iron of his blood, but forced himself not to cringe away. "It is now your project until further notice," he pronounced in a low voice. "You are not to share it with anyone. And if I find that you have, will tear you in half so slowly that you will have agonizing minutes to think about the folly of crossing me." Vegeta bared his teeth, still crimson. "Minutes can be long, slave."

"Y-y-yes, Your Majesty," Loid gasped, and he grasped the desk nearest him lest he pass out altogether. How could Bulma have lived with such a terrifying creature?! And how could she have survived it as long as she did?!

The darkness of the King's shadow departed and the alien took a shuddering breath. "I will be by to check on your progress," he remarked as he exited. The threat was implicit.

In a deeply selfish moment born of pure fright, Loid dearly hoped that wherever Bulma had "gone", she would be back to reclaim her role as Personal Scientist to King Vegeta. And quickly.

A/N: Lots of questions still to be answered, but Vegeta certainly thinks he has things under control. Which is, unfortunately, when things usually get complicated for him… Leave a review, and let me know what you think! I appreciate all of you that are still reading and sticking with it! I'll see you back here soon(er) lol.