A/N: I'm so sorry it's been so long. I never intended for the delay, but I won't bore you with the details... just say that I was in a very bad situation and I got out of it, and am very happy to be :). That being said, I have more time to write now and I'm focused on this baby! Thank you for everyone who has stuck with me so far, this chapter is for you! Thank you to a few guests who gave me encouragement by review! Thank you for the compliments and I really hope you return to see the new chapter! Also thanks to Dubeth45, Lostin2004 (Hope you enjoy this one! Another will be out much sooner than last time!), and NNP (Your questions will definitely be answered, but not in this chapter yet!). Your reviews have been a major part of getting me back on the horse, so thank you!

Chapter 32:

Vegeta forced himself to leave his Queen in the morning, but not before waking her briefly for one last round of consummation. It didn't bother him that she was half-awake for the act, for once—still on the high of her acquiescence, finally. Finally. He had waited and waited for that woman to allow him to storm her castle walls, when she had already been conquered in the first place. Why had he done that? He avoided thinking about it.

He stood and dressed, watching her as she turned onto "his" side and stole all of the bed coverings, leaving only one smooth shoulder exposed as she burrowed in. Typical. He stared far longer than necessary, and then left without further instigation. This day was far too important to waste in bed, no matter how enticing the occupant.

He was to meet with the Elites later in the morning. He wished for Nappa to de-brief him on the events of the planet Namek. And also…

He sensed for Trunks' ki in his room, but it was abandoned. He reached further until he found the boy training, but he was not accompanied by anyone else, and his form was …strange.

Intrigued, Vegeta made his way to the training chambers and found his son running through motions with the sword that had been clasped to his back the previous day. The boy could have been a mere human with that sword. Repetitive thrusts, and slices, and arcs. Again and again as if possessed by some sword-bearing race that wasn't his own.

Without any proper opponent or instruction, Vegeta doubted that he could improve much past this point, but he watched silently all the same.

"What do you want?" Trunks finally asked, not pausing for even a moment. Yet, Vegeta could see the beginnings of a flush that indicated he didn't want to be mocked. He pushed off the wall and moved towards his son. Closer, Vegeta could spy beads of sweat dotting the boy's face, proof he hadn't just begun. He also hadn't healed in the Regeneration Tank from their bout, stubborn streak alive and well. Vegeta smirked at that.

"Saiyans have no need of swords."

Again Trunks didn't bother to acknowledge him, keep to his swiping practice, but Vegeta didn't particularly care: he knew that his next words would get a reaction.

"Your presence is required in the Meeting Chamber in one hour."

The way Trunks' jaw wound up, he may have cracked some teeth. His forms stuttered, and then continued with only a slight wildness.

"I'm not attending anything that involves this planet and your stupid ranks."

"Aren't you?" Vegeta rubbed his jaw. "I suppose that would fit. Running away, I mean. I did it too when I was Prince."

Trunks shook his head, and a growl escaped his lips. "I know what you're doing!"

"I'm telling you the truth, boy. If that upsets you, then do something different."

Trunks stopped and straightened, wiping the sweat from his brow with one hand before looking at his father and keeping his voice steady and neutral. "My mother may accept being a Queen here… she gets to make her own decision about that. But I'm not a prince."

"And I'll say again, boy. You are, whether you accept it or not."

"But what happened to everything you said before?" Trunks demanded. "About me not being a 'proper' Saiyan? Did that change when I went to a different planet and killed people?"

Vegeta shrugged. "Does it matter to you? Regardless of the reason, things have changed." The boy opened his mouth to respond and Vegeta cut across him sharply. "But KNOW this: you were always the only son that I acknowledged as my own. You will always be the first, and you will be given your due, as far as that is concerned."

Trunks gritted his teeth, but he didn't respond. It was likely that he didn't want to admit that he cared what his father thought of him. He sighed wearily, putting his sword away. "I don't feel like arguing about this. I'm here for my own reasons. Not yours."

"That's just fine. But do you want Nappa submitting the only report on Namek, or would you rather be there when he does?"

Vegeta had planned to meet with Nappa immediately before the Elites arrived for this exact reason. Trunks would want to be there to tell his own tale, and he would chance getting caught up with the Elites in the process. It was worth it to him. And once he realized that it was a strategy meeting, he wouldn't leave. He would do his duty. Vegeta hid his smirk this time as he saw Trunks visibly falter with indecision.

"Well then..."

VBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVB

"Gohan!"

Bulma's cry sounded so like Chi-Chi that it jolted Gohan awake with a shout, stumbling to his feet quickly, ready for anything. "B-Bulma? How did you—"

"The guards told me where they put you, and the family wing isn't all that big." She, already dressed and ready to go, waved a hand at him, earrings chiming musically with her movement. "Come on, I want to show you the labs!"

It was too early for this kind of excitement, thought Gohan, as he rooted around on the floor for his clothes and Bulma slammed out of the room (to wait right outside, by his detection). After sleeping in a metallic, sterile spaceship for months, it shouldn't have been a surprise how much he craved a fluffy bed. He hadn't even expected to stay in a palace, but here he was.

The idea of seeing more of the palace and Vegeta-sei was definitely intriguing, in an academic sort of way.

He threw on yesterday's clothes and met Bulma, who was waiting impatiently, and her guard, who was staring at Gohan with interest.

"Let's go!"

"Is Trunks coming?" Gohan asked, finally awake enough to wonder where his friend was. Bulma tensed minutely, before shaking her head.

"Nah," she said. "He's not big on the lab, and Vegeta was gone when I got up, so I'm guessing that they're together."

Gohan almost asked if that was wise, but clamped his mouth shut before he could utter a sound, feeling bashful. Bulma's sidelong glance told him that she knew what he had held back.

"Don't worry," she muttered. "They've already got the whole 'kick the crap out of each other' thing out of their systems… and they have to figure it out between the two of them now. And I have to butt-out and let them do their thing."

Gohan raised an eyebrow where she couldn't see. Had Bulma changed so much that she was seriously going to do that?! Yeah, she had always been more relaxed than his own mother; but Gohan remembered, however indistinctly, the fear and anger Bulma had whenever Vegeta's name came up back then, and wondering why that was. But then, Vegeta did come back and took them and probably confirmed all of Bulma's fears.

He rubbed his head. This was all so complicated…

"Loid!" Bulma sang, as she entered the lab. "I've got someone for you to see!"

A tall, orange creature jumped at the address, straightening like an arrow. He was in no way Saiyan, and Gohan guessed that slavery was practiced here for advances and resources that Saiyans lacked. This was another surprising discovery to Gohan, who had always believed that Saiyans simply destroyed entire planets without a thought to what may benefit them from these places.

They must scavenge resources they don't have, he observed.

After a deep bow, Loid's eyes jumped to Gohan and his white brow furrowed, as if he had expected someone else. "Your Majesty, I had heard—"

"Yeah, Trunks is back, and I'm sure that you'll see him soon. But this is the son of my best friend! Son Gohan." Bulma's ringed around his bicep and pulled him along. "Gohan here is a scholar, and I think he could really learn something from watching us at work!"

"But Your Majesty," Loid began, so obviously tentative that even Gohan could see it, though he didn't know the man, "I'd—I'd be happy to show your friend's son around, but Lord General Cauli is here and we have so many—"

Bulma's eyes were already scanning the place. "General Cauli? I didn't see him."

"I was examining the prototype, Your Majesty," came a voice from behind Gohan, both gruff and sparse. Gohan craned his head around and was met with a large Saiyan (though not as large as Bulma's guard) approaching them. The man's dark gaze only flitted to Gohan briefly before fixing on his Queen. "And waiting to see how it works before I left for a meeting with the King."

"Sure!" Bulma said brightly, forgetting all about Gohan as she hurried to don a pair of goggles and pick up a blaster. "Let's test her out for you, General."

"Should we perhaps move somewhere. Somewhere more private, Your Majesty?"

Again, Gohan didn't need to know the Saiyan to read his meaning. Gohan was a stranger. He was not considered to be Saiyan and the general was wary of his presence. Bulma knew it, too.

"Nah. Do you think I'd endanger us, General? Son Gohan is a Saiyan from my planet, and he is completely trustworthy. I give my word on it!"

Gohan blushed, because Bulma had revealed more than he was comfortable with. Yet, the General asked no further questions, though Gohan felt the scrutiny even while the Saiyan didn't look at him.

"As Your Majesty says."

VBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVB

The muscles in Trunks' back were almost calcified with stiffness as they waited for Nappa. The last thing that he wanted was to be here, talking about these things, getting acclimated to something that he would never agree to.

Prince of All Saiyans. Trunks understood what that meant: all of it. He would have to sit in these meetings and be at his father's right hand and command Saiyans like they hadn't once looked at him like he didn't belong, and worse, looked at his mother that way…

He would have to take his father's life and with it, the crown.

Why would he even pretend that any of that was okay with him?

"Tenseness is not alertness."

That was an old adage of Vegeta's that Trunks had always found funny. His father was the most wound-up person he knew. But Trunks wasn't going to take a shot at him like that and encourage any bonding. He rolled his eyes.

"Why isn't Nappa here already? I could be training."

"Yes, with your sword." Vegeta didn't hide the mirth from his voice. "So sorry to keep you."

"Nappa is the one keeping me. And your stupid planet," Trunks said waspishly, unable to help himself.

"Of course it has nothing to do with the fact that your mother wishes to remain with me."

"No. But the fact that you think that's the reason tells me everything I need to know!" Trunks exclaimed hotly.

"Am I interrupting?" Nappa was suppressing a smirk from the door, which faded immediately as Vegeta set narrowed eyes on him.

"You're late."

"I apologize, my King," Nappa said hastily. "Perhaps I got the time wrong."

"I said before we meet with the Elites! How is that difficult to understand?"

"It's not, Your Majesty." Nappa offered no rebuttal and Trunks couldn't pretend that it didn't give him satisfaction to see Nappa get bullied by his father. The Saiyan had been such a pain on Namek. "Forgive me."

"There's no time for forgiveness, just get on with it!" Vegeta hissed.

Nappa wound up like a clock. "Yes! It took nearly thirty standard days to reach the planet. When we arrived, there were signs of an Extermination and Sale taking place. We later discovered that the Ginyu Force were responsible." The Saiyan hardly took a breath, practiced at this as he was. He knew just what details to offer and what to omit. "From what we could tell, they had happened on the planet by accident and Frieza was not yet aware of their location or given the order."

"What signs of an E&S?" Vegeta asked, alert. "Were they aware of what the planet held?"

"Those wishing balls? Not that we could tell. Just the green shits were getting wiped out and the boy—the Prince—intervened."

Trunks felt Vegeta cut his eyes over to him but didn't look as he replied. "I killed Jeice and then Burter."

"Why?"

Trunks was thrown by the question, not because of the question, but because of who was asking. "Jeice was about to murder some kids. Burter was out to kill us before we could accomplish the mission and save Mom."

"Fitting reasons," Vegeta responded. "And what about the rest?"

"We held them off until the Prince could use the other wishes and ensure that the Ginyu Force was stuck on that planet with no means to leave or to communicate with Frieza. Then, he sent the rest of the green things to a new location where they wouldn't be found."

"How many times could you use the Dragonballs?" Vegeta demanded. Nappa hesitated, so Trunks cut in.

"It's different for every set, I guess. Mom thought once, but the ones there gave you three wishes." Trunks mouth dried up just talking about it; he didn't want these vultures being attracted to Earth, and the only thing that would prevent that was Bulma's sway over Vegeta. Nothing else.

"And you used all of those wishes to spare people." Vegeta pointed out instead. Trunks hadn't really thought about it that way, but it was true. And Vegeta didn't seem particularly happy about it, but again, what did Trunks care?

"Yeah, I did."

"Next time, save your own. And if you can't help yourself from doing more than that, at least don't spare your enemies." Vegeta instructed with exasperation, but not much heat. "You may get those do-gooder instincts from your mother, but this foolishness of sparing those who would kill you cannot stand."

"It was the best decision to make at the time!" Trunks argued. "Should I have wasted time killing them one-by-one, or gotten back here before Frieza showed up?!"

"A world without Frieza's mercenaries is a better one," Vegeta insisted.

"My King, if I may," Nappa interjected carefully. "The boy—the Prince had no intelligence on the Ginyu Force before we landed. If he had, it's possible he would have made a …different choice."

"I wouldn't have," Trunks contradicted him, too surprised to stop after Nappa actually defended him, though his point was wrong. "I did the thing that made the most sense. That's it. And if killing them had made the most sense, I would have done that!" He threw his hands up. "I'm not interested in getting my jollies that way, sorry." His eyes bored into his father's. "And if you want a Prince who is, I suggest you look for a replacement. I suggest you get—!"

Vegeta's fist came down hard on the table next to it, cracking it clean in two and Nappa jolted. Trunks closed his mouth. The table reverberated for a moment, before dropping its sides with a whining thud, and then silence.

"And I suggest," Vegeta said, "that you do not finish that sentence."

Vegeta had known what Trunks was going to say, and he hadn't liked it. Even with Trunks knowing his own power…the effect his father's aura was powerful. But Trunks hadn't liked it either… he didn't even know why he had started to say that: mention Geta. He didn't know what was getting into him these days…

"Sure," was all he said, nor would he turn away in shame. Nappa relaxed slightly.

The King only stared at him, eyebrows downturned, but then they lightened in favor of a smirk. "We disagree on the best course, but that's no surprise. And for your sake, boy, I hope they are truly lost and won't come searching for your blood, or I might just give them a shot."

"What a surprise," Trunks said dryly. "But I think I can handle it. Now tell me something more surprising: why do you have Mom all wrapped up in this thing with Frieza?" His tone was putting on a lack of caring, but it couldn't hide the tremble of anger from Vegeta's ears.

"I figured that even if you kept her hostage, you'd have the decency to keep her away from your power struggle so she wouldn't get killed again. Guess I was wrong."

"Baiting me on this topic will not work, brat." Vegeta stroked one finger down the jagged edge of the broken table. "Your mother's in no danger from her science experiments, and I'd be a poor King to choke out his Queen's light, where she shines most brightly. Now aren't you tired of these pathetic little attempts at goading me? Because I am. You know I won't let your mother near Frieza, so stop wasting my time."

Trunks couldn't retort had he wanted to, as they all sensed a platoon of Elite power levels coming. Suddenly, all thoughts of provoking Vegeta washed away as Trunks realized he had no idea what to expect of this meeting. He had never officially met any Saiyan as a proclaimed Prince, and though he rejected the title, what his father proclaimed was the only thing that mattered to these people…

His spine could have cracked with the tension as they began to filter in, eyeing father and son as they stood facing off. Vegeta broke it by turning away and making for the head of the broken table with authority.

Trunks wasn't sure how he knew what he was supposed to do—what Vegeta desired for him to do, but he did. The Prince's place was at the King's right hand. Trunks stared at that seat, and momentarily pictured himself following, and taking that place. Frozen, he continued to stand as the Elites spread around either half of the table (it must have been a common occurrence), leaving that spot deliberately empty and waiting for him.

He continued to stand there, ignoring his father's thunderous brow. Vegeta, once he realized that Trunks would not sit at the table, did not continue to entertain the silence.

"The Prince has brought news to us that means our efforts must increase, and quickly. Cauli—" Vegeta turned on one who wasn't too far down the line of Elites. "what is the latest update in the Queen's labs?"

"Ah, well, a visitor of the Queen's was there today… a boy named Son Gohan?"

"The Prince's friend," the one who had spoken to him yesterday interrupted knowledgeably. Trunks looked at the Saiyan to find him looking back. Trunks frowned.

"Not that!" Vegeta snapped. "Immaterial! Inform about the element the Queen found in the lake and what it is being used for and how it can assist us with Frieza!"

"As you wish," Cauli said gruffly. "The Queen hasn't stopped. She's constructed Cold armor-piercing bullets, enough to supply half the army. She's working on some sort of remote that will create a perimeter that will drain ki… or that is how Her Majesty has explained it to me." His voice had lightened and Trunks imagined it was amusement or something similarly light, even if it was the tiniest amount. "The parts that I could understand…"

"And what if Frieza dispenses with the drama and just decides to blow up the planet?" the outspoken Saiyan cut in. "All those bullets will mean nothing."

"Perhaps you should have remained active in the process of our planning, Lord Cumber" another older Saiyan chided, his voice also lighter than the rumbles Trunks was used to associating with his father's race. "Though not ideal, we have contingencies. Should anything come into the atmosphere poised to destroy Vegeta-sei, there is an evacuation plan in place, which would of course, lead to a firefight in open space. Regardless, I do not think Frieza will resort to the indignity of wiping us out. He will want to …make it personal, I think…"

Trunks wondered how this guy could know such a thing, but no one objected to his prediction, not even his father.

"And to add to that, I will have no more waffling or willful sidelining of our rebellion against Frieza," Vegeta declared. He was staring at Lord Cumber as if he was an insect barely worth acknowledging, and Trunks was already inclined to agree. "Cumber, if you were unaware of our preparations, that was your own foolishness and I grow tired having to explain things to you." Vegeta stood and somehow it changed the air even with his slight height. "Henceforth, if any Saiyan in this room does not devotedly stand with our people, he can no longer call himself 'Elite'. He is NO better than that traitor, Celeri!"

"I stand with you, Your Majesty," Cumber insisted, and there was more humility in his voice now. "More accurately, I stand with your ultimate goal. And I will ally myself with any plans you have and whatever you mean for me to do." The room sat in surprised silence, but not for long. Trunks then felt those eyes on him again, from this Saiyan Elite who was so disagreeable to his father.

"I only ask if the same applies to your son, your proclaimed Prince of All Saiyans, who will not sit at your right hand. I ask the truth of his loyalties, at a time when there is no room for halfway, and half of his blood sings the song of another planet." Cumber's voice softened, but Trunks' blood was beating in his ears to nearly drown it out. "If he is the heir to the throne, can we have confidence in him? And how can we know it? It will be as you say, because no Saiyan alive can stand against you, or your right to rule. But what lies ahead for our people when the King is gone? Crediting the Prince that he can defeat you?"

With all that said, Trunks was utterly speechless. He wouldn't have known the first thing to address, or just the sheer weight of the responsibility of it. His mind raced endlessly.

Did Saiyans really think about these things? Did they worry about problems that couldn't be punched into oblivion? He couldn't help but look from face to face and see that they did. They worried about his loyalty to them. They worried that they couldn't count on him because they didn't deserve his loyalty, nor did they respect him. Whether it mattered or not to him, it was of great consequence to this planet—this place that was slated for destruction by a force that had held them hostage like he had been held by his father, and by his mother's safety. He was so overrun that he almost missed it when Vegeta's voice rang out again.

"It is clear," he said. "That none of you understand my son's power or what he has done in the time that he has been away. I will not go far into detail, because there is no time. But when the Prince traveled, he encountered the Ginyu Force, Frieza's most elite group of mercenaries, and he wiped them all off the face universe!"

All Trunks could think was that this was a slight exaggeration, but the effect was given. Immediately, he felt the heat of twenty Saiyan gazes, and thunderstruck awe.

"He couldn't have…" one of them murmured, possibly without realization that he had spoken aloud.

"He did," came Nappa's voice, calm and gruff. Trunks could hear a smirk there as well. "I saw it with my own eyes."

"And now perhaps you will finally understand how this arbitrary nonsense of blood has crippled us all," Vegeta continued. "Do you think this boy—this Prince—is no Saiyan?!" Vegeta stood, reckless as ever and walked to Trunks, hammering his fist down lightly on one of his shoulders. Trunks' knees momentarily buckled against the blow, but he caught himself out of it; made sure that they couldn't see. "If his blood is shed for a Saiyan cause than he is yours! And I will defy anyone to tell me otherwise."

Vegeta looked around at them all, and Trunks glowered at Vegeta. He understood what this was about, but every part of him wanted to scream that it wasn't that; that Geta had murdered his mother and he had had NO choice but to do it. His defiance rose again.

"All these plans, but not one of you could stand against the Cold Empire," he said coldly, but his eyes remained on Vegeta. He brushed his father's hand off of him roughly. "Just try to stay out of my way."

He left to the eyes burning on his back and he never saw Vegeta's eyes lit with delight.

VBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVB

As the landing on Vegeta-sei drifted too near, Geta worked in a laser-focused delirium of relentless training, pain, eating, breathing—anything and only that which would aid him in his goal. The sleep he got was in the Regen Tank, because there his power level would boost an unprecedented amount for any non-Saiyan. But that was because he was Saiyan; more than Trunks and more than that so-called King, who had abandoned his people before returning and taking everything without a care.

The throne would be his right. Frieza could have Vegeta to torture and kill. But Trunks…

Trunks was his to kill.

When they landed, Geta was certain that Trunks would be there too. After all, Vegeta needed an heir, and that heir wasn't Geta—had never been, actually. Vegeta had always made that clear to him. Geta had just blindly spent his childhood trusting that Vegeta would eventually see the light and acknowledge Geta as his legitimate and only true progeny.

Geta was no child anymore.

He had seen Frieza's eyes darken as he got stronger, and how his most powerful lieutenants had started to look askance when he entered the Cold Emperor's presence. He could tell—they were wondering whether he would become something to be feared. But, he already had.

Geta didn't care about anything beyond staying alive, and killing anyone who stood in the way of his becoming the King of All Saiyans. There was no vanity about him anymore, no need to be worried about winning the opinion of those who never liked him to begin with. They could snicker behind their hands, and turn their noses up, but as long as his interests aligned with Frieza's, he was safe from them. And then, he would get away and have time to get too strong for Frieza… because he knew all about how a Saiyan got strong, now. That was something he had to learn for himself.

Geta stared out at the starry nothingness, counting the days away from the planet—it was only days now… They were mere standard days from his installation as King. He would waste no time killing his wretched, bastard brother; it was only a matter of how long Frieza would viciously play with Vegeta—worse than Geta himself was played with. And once that retribution was achieved, the nightmares would fade from Geta's life, and his whole purpose would be right before him.

VBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVB

After General Cauli left the lab for a meeting, Bulma took Gohan's hand and dragged him to her private office, as if she had been waiting for the opportunity all morning. "Hey, so I have to talk to you about a few things before your father gets here. Loid, keep order for me, will ya?"

Gohan really wanted to find Trunks and stick with him, hoping that he would have showed up eventually, but he knew that once Bulma got something in her head, the rest of the world was helpless against it. Bulma spun around once the door closed, dropping papers on the desk next to her and releasing Gohan in one, fluid motion. Her mouth was set much more seriously than it had been a minute ago.

"First of all," she said, pinning him with a look. "Who else, besides your father, is on that ship?"

Gohan straightened. "Krillin. And… a young Namekian named Dende. He has healing abilities, but not any fighting skills."

"Why did Dende come along?"

Gohan shrugged, still finding that a mystery. "I don't know, really. He believed that his mission was to stay with us while the rest of his people went to a safer planet. I think that their leader might have given him some sort of instruction…"

"So," Bulma's eyes crinkled up in slight confusion. "…he can help us against Frieza?"

"Trunks didn't—"

"No." Bulma sighed. "Trunks hasn't been thinking about the logistics of all of this since he's been back. And Vegeta is definitely not gonna care. But I do, and I know you're observant, Gohan. So, what do you think Dende's mission actually is?"

"I think …it has something to do with Dragonballs." Gohan ventured finally. "The Namekians—they create them. And I think that Dende senses he has to do something for us, but maybe even he doesn't know what it is yet…"

Bulma laughed dryly. "Well, I can tell you on good authority, kid, that we're going to have a hell of a time dealing with this combination of characters. Krillin is very obviously not Saiyan. Goku is Saiyan, but doesn't act like it. And Dende, well… I'm guessing he's green?"

"He can stay in the lab with you!" Gohan declared, thinking of all the assorted colors and different aliens that he had seen only this morning. "That should be good protection. You're the Queen, after all."

"Sure, until the fighting begins, and then no one's safety is guaranteed," Bulma sighed. "But that doesn't solve the problem of Krillin or Goku."

"Krillin'll figure it out," Gohan said. "And I'll …I'll talk to my dad," he finished lamely.

Bulma seemed mightily unimpressed with that solution, but ended up shrugging. "Ah, well… Vegeta won't let anything happen to him. Probably. I shouldn't worry."

"You shouldn't?" Gohan cried, feeling the panic rise at her words. If his dad's safety rested in Vegeta's hands, he was as good as dead! He laughed nervously as Bulma slumped over at her desk in a very un-Queenlike fashion. "Hey, so… I know that Vegeta treats you pretty nice, Bulma, but he—he doesn't really seem to like other people!"

Her head came up at that, brow furrowed. "You think Vegeta likes me?" she said in disbelief. "Based on what?"

Gohan swore he could live to be a thousand years old and he would never understand Trunks' family. "He—he married you, didn't he?"

She snorted. "No."

"But you're Queen."

"Oh that. Well, I can tell you now that it wasn't because he liked me."

Gohan wasn't sure what to say to that, so he settled for a meek "okay" and was saved from further response. Bok knocked at the door and opened it, head inclined as always. "Your Majesty, your …friend …has arrived."

The concept of 'friends' didn't seem familiar to Bok. Bulma rose to her feet and groaned almost theatrically. "Well, I would have liked to have more time to prepare, but there's never a dress rehearsal on Vegeta-sei. Let's go, kiddo. It's time to give your dad a fighting chance."

Gohan would have crawled back into that fluffy bed if he could have.

A/N: This was getting a little long, but I promise, Goku will be back next chapter! Until then.